tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4839584712871965522024-02-07T06:54:15.503-05:00Age Aggressively!Aging is temporary. Having fun doing it is forever. Age Aggressively, my friends, Age Aggressively!AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-60292438358686990442014-06-04T15:25:00.002-04:002014-06-04T15:25:07.178-04:00The Word of the Now: Determination<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<h2>
de·ter·mi·na·tion</h2>
<span class="main-fl"><i>noun</i></span> <span class="pr">\di-<span class="unicode">ˌ</span>tər-mə-<span class="unicode">ˈ</span>nā-shən\</span>
: a quality that makes you continue trying to do or achieve something that is difficult<br />
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I was driving home from the gym the other day. It was around 5:45am (yes, I work out in the very early a.m. - don't judge me - all the hottest senior citizens work out in the a.m.). My route home takes me by our town park. As I drove by I saw an empty wheelchair placed beside a station wagon. Before I had a chance to be confused I noticed, farther up the parking lot, a man slowly, steadily rolling in his race wheelchair. He woke, like the rest of us morning junkies, to get his training in.<br />
<br />
Strike that. Not like us. Not at all.<br />
<br />
As I drove away I started thinking about what he did: He woke and got in his wheelchair to roll to his car, to get out of his wheelchair, get into his car and pull his wheelchair into his car before driving to the park to pull his wheelchair out of his car and get into it to roll himself to the back of his car and pull his race wheelchair out, get out of his regular wheelchair and get into his race wheelchair to train. All that, just to train. He has to then do everything in reverse to get home and start the rest of his day. All of that every time he needs to get his time in to be better than the day before. Every time to maintain his fitness. Every time to not be stuck motionless in a chair his whole life.<br />
<br />
I'm sure when he woke that morning to go about his normal routine he never meant to be inspirational. He only wanted to get his training in. Often times it is the actions of ordinary people that strike us as extraordinary. It was his determination that struck me, with all he had to do, all we take for granted, to get where he wanted to be. It also got me thinking that determination isn't about how far you can go but, after a setback or after you've fallen, how much farther you're willing to go.<br />
<br />
That's determination. <br />
<br />
So how determined are you? How determined are you to break your daily cycle of sitting at breakfast, sitting in your car, sitting at your desk, sitting at lunch, sitting in your car again, sitting at dinner, sitting, sitting, sitting, instead of moving, shakin', and creating the version of you that you want?<br />
<br />
Does your bag of excuses weigh more than a wheelchair? <br />
<br />
How determined are you to get where you want to be?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Feeling decidedly determined,<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: blue;"><i><b>Illustrious</b></i></span></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-13363730940745349842014-05-17T08:54:00.002-04:002014-05-17T09:01:33.480-04:00Rants and Raves: Ralph Waldo Emerson 10 Mile Trail Race - Concord, NH <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKllvl-mRO_PGLQSwfUU7ql9JeMd6PrGehWW06WB8cAAgu9vR_Aj5JR0dy6vdcXKUbQroJ0USgYWaPWuHWJf0V5vgl6co7FDiE5_XKxWrh9Tif5gS9lScv37F3uGm7N0gWlpsm6K7p8Q/s1600/RantsandRaves.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKllvl-mRO_PGLQSwfUU7ql9JeMd6PrGehWW06WB8cAAgu9vR_Aj5JR0dy6vdcXKUbQroJ0USgYWaPWuHWJf0V5vgl6co7FDiE5_XKxWrh9Tif5gS9lScv37F3uGm7N0gWlpsm6K7p8Q/s640/RantsandRaves.JPG" height="451" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Where it was: </b>Ralph Waldo Emerson Trail Race in Concord, NH</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
http://www.acidoticracing.com/events/view_event.php?ID=6#.U2RQvuZdVQY</div>
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>What it is:</b> Acidotic Racing puts on several trail races a season. This was the first acidotic race Age Aggressively ran and, like meth*, it was addictive the moment we started.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*To all you kiddies out there, meth is bad. This was only used as a comparison and by no means was it suppose to convey support or encouragement of meth use. You can't do much on meth except die. If you die you won't be able to experience the joys of life, like trail racing with other likeminded crazies. Crack**, of course, is a different thing altogether.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">**Yes, crack is also bad!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></div>
<div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-RrsZslnmuH9pSB_7P-OhIjd_2xWhjI42lGbWg7FcjPc0R2Q7LISbLQ4X2ELaRKRK-7J166wRE3dUjaF-fZh1c9VRiuUeUJJ_ort9aG-M2UPWDyffJfKpPjsX6QJ5hIlC9Jy26joOa8J/s1600/supes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-RrsZslnmuH9pSB_7P-OhIjd_2xWhjI42lGbWg7FcjPc0R2Q7LISbLQ4X2ELaRKRK-7J166wRE3dUjaF-fZh1c9VRiuUeUJJ_ort9aG-M2UPWDyffJfKpPjsX6QJ5hIlC9Jy26joOa8J/s1600/supes.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling Super!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Who was racing</b>: Your dear Illustrious, McWhiskey (reverting back to his maiden name), and the newly named GPS (to be explained later), along with several other people, men and women alike, old and young, who enjoy the thrill of the trail, the pace of the pursuit, the freezing cold of the rain.<br />
<br />
<b>Why we do it: </b>We as a people have grown tired of running on the roads. Let's face it, roads eat you up. Like marriage, roads are unforgiving and pound away at your energy, your body, and your soul, leaving you an empty shell, a remnant of the strong person you use to be. Okay, not really, only marriage does that. Roads just hurt my delicate feet and are boring as f***. Trails, however, offer up constant changes in scenery, of direction, of challenge. Trails, simply put, are more fun, and who wouldn't call the chance of sprained ankles, broken bones, falling over roots to fall face first into boulders fun?<br />
<b></b><br />
<b></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b> </b><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Rants</b>:<br />
<ol>
<li>It was cold and rainy. I know this isn't the race organizer's fault but this is the only rant I can come up with because the race was fun. So, it was cold and rainy which, as I think about it, wasn't that bad because the weather was perfect once we started running. Dammit... so this isn't a rant.</li>
<li>Ok, how's this: Due to the weather I was forced to sit in a cramped car with two annoying teammates instead of warming up for a trail run... nope, that doesn't work either because it became more team bonding. Dammit... this isn't a rant either <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-D-a7vkdWHE2zFYex_Er6hRKccEEY7PlT_lHOwtqW05qSVKH-iM1PlmB3ez1szcoRhyphenhyphen1tTqtaJWIiT77riQl3SPU-emTKEdeSk6gmlA9sY46SxjYz05itLvspqDS5AigJ8lY1lXhuOyg/s1600/inthecar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-D-a7vkdWHE2zFYex_Er6hRKccEEY7PlT_lHOwtqW05qSVKH-iM1PlmB3ez1szcoRhyphenhyphen1tTqtaJWIiT77riQl3SPU-emTKEdeSk6gmlA9sY46SxjYz05itLvspqDS5AigJ8lY1lXhuOyg/s1600/inthecar.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-race warm up, Aggressive-style!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</li>
<li>I am rantless... which is a rant!</li>
</ol>
<b>Raves</b>:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtll9HqLYL8tmyxuPJLeAEwlj4wLxGXfUBpcXor0DYvkx10l0UycSa1pVwyYdI_kbif0-k9sTMeNnxmpyp6FG_R49WRXLWTenMgCquosV7vPZq74R4P0JB2YwPau9tI4h8cu7VF8LobnsE/s1600/2014.04.EmersonTrailRace.Concord.Mike10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtll9HqLYL8tmyxuPJLeAEwlj4wLxGXfUBpcXor0DYvkx10l0UycSa1pVwyYdI_kbif0-k9sTMeNnxmpyp6FG_R49WRXLWTenMgCquosV7vPZq74R4P0JB2YwPau9tI4h8cu7VF8LobnsE/s1600/2014.04.EmersonTrailRace.Concord.Mike10.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who knew runners were so happy?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ol>
</ol>
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>Let's get down to brass tacks for a moment. I have no idea what that means: brass tacks. I can only assume it should go with "uphill both ways in the snow," but I can't be sure. Sounds old. Anyway, brass tacks: the price of the race alone should make you want to run it. For under $30 you get (a) an awesome trail run (b) a tech race shirt (c) free food supplied by local vendors (d) proceeds of the race went to support local charities and (e) dude, seriously, it was under $30 dollars.</li>
<li>Trail racers are a different breed of runner. Road racers have this long, sinewy form and grace about them - they're like the gazelles of the running world, effortlessly gliding above the pavement as they float to their 4 minute mile finish. Trail racers are like gazelles whose legs were exposed to gamma radiation. I've never seen quads this size on runners and that was just the women. After watching them run, which was ever so briefly as they tore into the brush, I could only imagine there was far less gliding, much more grinding everything in their path to a fine powder from their quadrasaurs. Maybe this should have been a rant due to the fact that I don't have quadrasaurs, or quads of any time, not even a gazelles. Yes, I have quad envy.</li>
<li> Everything from the course direction to the pictures were due to club
volunteers. Other event organizers should take note of how acidotic
racing does their races because for one price you got everything, even
free pictures. The pics were not your cheapo iphone pics either, they
were high quality stuff - and free. Did I mention that? Free.</li>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDxJyXswBXAMh4Efjou9i97MIEoiEhw7yDBEyKW0-qlCWNzSotEvKQ-tLP08loIJG8I5noHZUl0qH_4JVpxiYG-WeX5qT_79zH5QSelxu_cQz_JZ_LcDk6cj4Hb3rq6CAM5LIAstjLloq/s1600/2014.04.EmersonTrailRace.Concord.Amie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDxJyXswBXAMh4Efjou9i97MIEoiEhw7yDBEyKW0-qlCWNzSotEvKQ-tLP08loIJG8I5noHZUl0qH_4JVpxiYG-WeX5qT_79zH5QSelxu_cQz_JZ_LcDk6cj4Hb3rq6CAM5LIAstjLloq/s1600/2014.04.EmersonTrailRace.Concord.Amie.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I have no idea where I'm going" - GPS</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<li>Ok, storytime: Nice Pipes (seen to your right) signed up for the 10 miler with us. She was all set to run the 10. She started with the other 10 milers. She followed the course with the other 10 milers... and completed the 5K, which was also being run the same day. Somewhere along her run she took a left when she should have went right. Not to be deterred from her original goal, Pipes set out once more to complete the 10 miler and once again, and no one knows how, she took a wrong turn and completed the last two miles of the 10 miler. On the down side, she never ran the 10 miler. On the upside, she came in first place for the unplanned 5 miler! For your efforts, your commitment to the race, and to yourself, we hereby award you the new blog name: GPS!</li>
</ol>
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<br />
<br />
<ol>
</ol>
<ol>
</ol>
</div>
<div>
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<b>Overall</b>: <br />
Do it. Register for races organized by acidotic races. Have fun. Leave the road. Hit the trails. If you had a barrel full of monkeys you would put it down to run these courses - it's that much fun! WARNING: Please pay attention to the arrows and directional flags. They are everywhere and it's practically impossible to get lost... where'd Amie go?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: blue;">Losing teammates since mile 1</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: blue;"><b><i>- Illustrious</i></b></span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: blue;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Results:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
http://www.acidoticracing.com/viewResults.php?CurID=6</div>
<table class="resultsTbl"><tbody>
<tr><td>19</td>
<td>Todd Spencer </td>
<td><br /></td>
<td><br /></td>
<td><br /></td>
<td><br /></td>
<td>01:24:29</td>
<td>00:08:27</td>
<td> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table class="resultsTbl"><tbody>
<tr><td>44</td>
<td>Michael Hillis </td>
<td><br /></td>
<td><br /></td>
<td><br /></td>
<td><br /></td>
<td>01:45:50</td>
<td>00:10:35</td>
<td><br /></td><td><br /></td><td><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Shockingly, GPS is nowhere in the results. They must have lost her info :)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: blue;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-80717530620450087732014-01-12T13:23:00.001-05:002014-01-12T13:23:29.001-05:00Don't Be a Douche: Gym Etiquette<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
And now another episode of...</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesIlG7-qQKdGsFxQIaJRl6NxQPZfM-utyIoOfkd_WxPNkqiIxzy8PST-UduISKJ043NbDFUzBt0dhsjAM4z-SReT_wDdkONk49ueHICEazq_2TMNBcR2-EQyxAPorIYRjpNOrGxFOZOtF/s1600/dontbe.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesIlG7-qQKdGsFxQIaJRl6NxQPZfM-utyIoOfkd_WxPNkqiIxzy8PST-UduISKJ043NbDFUzBt0dhsjAM4z-SReT_wDdkONk49ueHICEazq_2TMNBcR2-EQyxAPorIYRjpNOrGxFOZOtF/s1600/dontbe.PNG" height="489" width="640" /></a></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
This week we'll discuss Gym Etiquette. Can you say "Gym Etiquette" boys and girls? I knew you could.</h3>
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><b><u><i>Not My Job</i></u></b>: Dude, great job pushing around that weight! What do you have on the sled because that's a lot of plates! What is that, around 540 lbs? And your bench press, looks like you were repping over 300lbs, before you hit the sled! You are totally massive. Truly, a Beast! I am humbled by your hulk-like strength and awed by the sheer power that is you. You know what would be even more inspiring? Using that Herculean strength to strip the frickin' weights from the bar when you're done and put them away. We understand that you take your workouts seriously. It's why you're here at the gym every day without fail. Great job, you! Guess what? We do, too, and we don't need to clean up after some douche who doesn't unrack his weights when he (not to be sexist) or she's done. Unless you want every bar in the place covered in 10 lb plates (which would be incredibly annoying for someone like you who hasn't had to touch such a dainty weight in your testosterone-fueled life), put your damn weights away. No one around you gives a shit how much weight you can move. Seriously. No one. Not even that hot chick you're trying to impress. We do give a shit how much weight you can put away when you're done. Don't be a douche. Clean up after yourself.</li>
<li><b><u><i>Hey, That's Mine</i></u></b>: Love how you're supersetting between three machines. What are you doing? Chest, back, and squats? You, sir, are awesome with your dedication, perseverance, and overall stamina and strength. While you're off being incredible on another machine I'm just going to step in here and, what's that? You're still using this? Um, ok, sure, no problem, I'll go use the other... huh? You're using this, too? Is there a machine or dumbbell or system you're not using today? I didn't know this was your personal gym. Let me check the front and, nope, not Douche's Gym. Either do something really amazing during your workout which will make it entertaining for me to watch, like smashing your scrotum between a set of 45s, or stop hogging all the weights. We all came here for the same reason: to workout. Not to watch you workout. Don't be a douche. Learn to share.</li>
<li><b><u><i>Just One Sec</i></u></b>: Excuse me, you good here or are you still using the bench? I'm asking because you're sitting here (choose one) staring off into space / talking on your cell phone / having vapid thoughts of how incredibly muscular you are, but you're not actually lifting. What's that? Oh, you're holding up one finger to me, indicating that I should wait a moment because you're not done with it? Really? How long is your break between sets? Appears to be about 5-10 minutes. We like to call that a "cool down." Either let me work in or you move on. I'm sure it's possible that you are thinking about your plans for world peace / talking to the president of the Anti-Douche League of America / admiring your bulging finger muscles, but would you please do it over there, away from the stuff the rest of us want to use? I have one finger for you, too. Don't be a douche. This is a weight bench, not a park bench.</li>
</ol>
<div>
Etiquette is very important. Always remember your pleases and thank yous, get your elbows off the table, and, most of all, stop being a douche.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Feeling summer clean</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
- Illustrious</div>
</div>
AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-50250818474128149452013-12-24T05:54:00.001-05:002013-12-24T05:54:17.699-05:00Rants and Raves: Jinglebell Half Marathon - Atkinson, NH 2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKllvl-mRO_PGLQSwfUU7ql9JeMd6PrGehWW06WB8cAAgu9vR_Aj5JR0dy6vdcXKUbQroJ0USgYWaPWuHWJf0V5vgl6co7FDiE5_XKxWrh9Tif5gS9lScv37F3uGm7N0gWlpsm6K7p8Q/s1600/RantsandRaves.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKllvl-mRO_PGLQSwfUU7ql9JeMd6PrGehWW06WB8cAAgu9vR_Aj5JR0dy6vdcXKUbQroJ0USgYWaPWuHWJf0V5vgl6co7FDiE5_XKxWrh9Tif5gS9lScv37F3uGm7N0gWlpsm6K7p8Q/s640/RantsandRaves.JPG" height="451" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<div>
<b>Where it was:</b> Atkinson Country Club, Atkinson, NH</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>What it is:</b> 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.</div>
<div>
<br />
<b>Who was racing</b>: 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.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzqLo0e_LnYMgyg1UveXBaBbIHBpRoudvpXMTHAt3OnSgXkrOpqNg2sD2ZWv-4_93JLe5SBYmwnM-KlWNleg1Z2QjgPqH3RjirEsrxaPiwWABx0olwbXBufXmYb2ia71sBSfNREZvYFyDY/s1600/2013.JinglebellHalfStart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzqLo0e_LnYMgyg1UveXBaBbIHBpRoudvpXMTHAt3OnSgXkrOpqNg2sD2ZWv-4_93JLe5SBYmwnM-KlWNleg1Z2QjgPqH3RjirEsrxaPiwWABx0olwbXBufXmYb2ia71sBSfNREZvYFyDY/s1600/2013.JinglebellHalfStart.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hugh Jameson, EPO, Illustrious<br />Countess Ovum, Nice Pipes<br />Looking good, Team!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Why we do it: </b>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!<br />
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<b>Rants</b>:<br />
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<li>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." </li>
<li>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?"</li>
<li>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.</li>
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<b>Raves</b>:<br />
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<li>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.</li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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"?</li>
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<b>Overall</b>: 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!!<br />
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Get down! Get to the Choppa!! </div>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b><i>- Illustrious</i></b></span></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-5833288987658705142013-11-21T15:23:00.001-05:002013-11-21T15:23:25.091-05:00Prisoners of the Beast<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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.<br />
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Enjoy!<br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"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.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"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.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"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?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"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?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"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.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"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...</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"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."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That's it for now, Aggressives. Thanks for indulging me. You may return to your exciting, amazing lives!</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b><i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Illustrious</span></i></b></span></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-75748525484844986642013-11-19T09:04:00.000-05:002013-11-19T09:05:02.790-05:00Exercising vs. Training<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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, <strike>on the toilet</strike>, 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?"<br />
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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.<br />
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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...<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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It's sweatcellence. <br />
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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?<br />
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What level of sweatcellence will you achieve?<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
-Sweating to the oldies</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: blue;">Illustrious</span></i></b></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-52136812490537725792013-10-11T16:05:00.001-04:002013-12-12T08:13:09.797-05:00Rants and Raves: Spartan Beast - Killington, VT 2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKllvl-mRO_PGLQSwfUU7ql9JeMd6PrGehWW06WB8cAAgu9vR_Aj5JR0dy6vdcXKUbQroJ0USgYWaPWuHWJf0V5vgl6co7FDiE5_XKxWrh9Tif5gS9lScv37F3uGm7N0gWlpsm6K7p8Q/s1600/RantsandRaves.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKllvl-mRO_PGLQSwfUU7ql9JeMd6PrGehWW06WB8cAAgu9vR_Aj5JR0dy6vdcXKUbQroJ0USgYWaPWuHWJf0V5vgl6co7FDiE5_XKxWrh9Tif5gS9lScv37F3uGm7N0gWlpsm6K7p8Q/s640/RantsandRaves.JPG" height="451" width="640" /></a></div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Reebok Spartan Race series - Spartan Beast</h2>
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<b>Where it was:</b> Killington Mountain, Killington, VT</div>
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<b>What it is:</b> 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.</div>
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<b>Who was racing</b>: Team <span style="color: #38761d; font-weight: bold;">Age Aggressively</span>, 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.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">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.</td></tr>
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<b>Why we do it: </b>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.<br />
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<b>Rants</b>:</div>
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<ol>
<li><u>Spectator tickets</u>. 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.</li>
<li><u>Danger, danger</u>: 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.</li>
<li><u>Rule Breakers</u>: 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.</li>
<li><u>Volunteers</u>: 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.</li>
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<b>Raves</b>: </div>
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><u>The course</u>. 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! <span style="font-size: x-small;">(*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)</span></li>
<li><u>The obstacles</u>. 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."</li>
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<li><u>Cement Bag Carry</u>: 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.</li>
<li><u>Water Rope Climb</u>: 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.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSsNUkTZ5UFgrRTySNxtruvBqNaCm4JSWaPAJ7bcZJ-jZGkWQf43jxn0IWB_XTRWJlkzzZKCIIsEq-_tkUYuKjfih3Ox0if1nmvGwyhx97fuQDQycd3x0H6pjTdbd9cR5c3pwWs_MMEJB/s1600/2013.Beast.Tarzan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSsNUkTZ5UFgrRTySNxtruvBqNaCm4JSWaPAJ7bcZJ-jZGkWQf43jxn0IWB_XTRWJlkzzZKCIIsEq-_tkUYuKjfih3Ox0if1nmvGwyhx97fuQDQycd3x0H6pjTdbd9cR5c3pwWs_MMEJB/s320/2013.Beast.Tarzan.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<li><u>Water Rope Climb with Tarzan Ropes</u>: 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.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<li><u>Gravel Pail Carry</u>: 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.</li>
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<li><u>Racers / Spectators</u>: This may seen irrelevant because without them there would be no race, but a few that I met must be mentioned:</li>
<ol><ol>
<li>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!</li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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!</li>
<li>Female Spectators: See #3 above? Thanks also goes to you and you're welcome.</li>
</ol>
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<b>Overall</b>: 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.</div>
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The Belle of the race</div>
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- <b><i><span style="color: blue;">Illustrious</span></i></b></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-31088122140173598692013-08-28T15:56:00.005-04:002013-08-28T15:56:44.143-04:00Rants and Raves: Spartan Sprint Amesbury 2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKllvl-mRO_PGLQSwfUU7ql9JeMd6PrGehWW06WB8cAAgu9vR_Aj5JR0dy6vdcXKUbQroJ0USgYWaPWuHWJf0V5vgl6co7FDiE5_XKxWrh9Tif5gS9lScv37F3uGm7N0gWlpsm6K7p8Q/s1600/RantsandRaves.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKllvl-mRO_PGLQSwfUU7ql9JeMd6PrGehWW06WB8cAAgu9vR_Aj5JR0dy6vdcXKUbQroJ0USgYWaPWuHWJf0V5vgl6co7FDiE5_XKxWrh9Tif5gS9lScv37F3uGm7N0gWlpsm6K7p8Q/s640/RantsandRaves.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Reebok Spartan Race series - Spartan Sprint</h2>
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<b>Where it was:</b> Amesbury Sports Park, Amesbury, MA</div>
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<b>What it is:</b> 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.</div>
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<b>Who was racing</b>: Team <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Age Aggressively</span></b> (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.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXzgdnJsbF-Jps6txCJ30Es95zgQ6g0T0ebVTWtB7A5zytIh-RusGDyxap5uBqJuf6xngA6ONr47NuEUriDtHSIPrktxmAwqhPoqRHLw9ejdoDMTPG0_HN-nq-Th6Bo1etrpxUBEBIyCXU/s1600/2013.Spartan.Sprint.Group.Before.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXzgdnJsbF-Jps6txCJ30Es95zgQ6g0T0ebVTWtB7A5zytIh-RusGDyxap5uBqJuf6xngA6ONr47NuEUriDtHSIPrktxmAwqhPoqRHLw9ejdoDMTPG0_HN-nq-Th6Bo1etrpxUBEBIyCXU/s400/2013.Spartan.Sprint.Group.Before.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost all of Team Age Aggressively before the race... the others were aggressively late.<br />
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)</td></tr>
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<b>Why we do it: </b><br />
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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?</div>
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<b>Rants</b>:<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>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.</li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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?): </li>
<ol>
<li>If you walk, walk to the right, so that swifter racers may pass you</li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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.</li>
</ol>
<li>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.</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqaPNb0CPOOSaF0c6HKxMlBr06eUmIxp4_BJbEFyc8euj1vzP10txglH9qmI94DL55SbOR1vJWQCtg6tb4jPpJqPs0aqUSgnmg2zJ1kFFQHKfcfWjZ6lr659mD_gjlDytLn51PclLNtoJn/s1600/2013.Spartan.Sprint.Team.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqaPNb0CPOOSaF0c6HKxMlBr06eUmIxp4_BJbEFyc8euj1vzP10txglH9qmI94DL55SbOR1vJWQCtg6tb4jPpJqPs0aqUSgnmg2zJ1kFFQHKfcfWjZ6lr659mD_gjlDytLn51PclLNtoJn/s400/2013.Spartan.Sprint.Team.2.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here are the teammates missing from the first pic, which is ok.<br />
I got them all to myself!</td></tr>
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<b>Raves</b>: </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>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.</li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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) - <a href="http://spartanrace.onthefleye.com/videos/popetsi@yahoo.com/location/6/date/2013-08-11">http://spartanrace.onthefleye.com/videos/popetsi@yahoo.com/location/6/date/2013-08-11</a></li>
<li>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.</li>
<li>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).</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQBRukUW8MiUTYjyOZ55TQS-EwKt5chUw_A5AiZMTTLXEP-PfSV7ApiyHtkk7vZ1cic1XUq7VHVTe9n8yPBeUEDoKLzMHFM_4vBaTOHeiFDO9XZMQjjiAZKWaY6kDK_suGjgtdmzbr8T2/s1600/2013.Spartan.Mud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQBRukUW8MiUTYjyOZ55TQS-EwKt5chUw_A5AiZMTTLXEP-PfSV7ApiyHtkk7vZ1cic1XUq7VHVTe9n8yPBeUEDoKLzMHFM_4vBaTOHeiFDO9XZMQjjiAZKWaY6kDK_suGjgtdmzbr8T2/s320/2013.Spartan.Mud.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did I mention these awesome pics were free? Go Spartan go!</td></tr>
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<b>Overall</b>:<br />
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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:<br />
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"Ahhhhhh, nice!" I said, pointing and laughing.<br />
"Yeahhhh, you too!" he replied with similar laughter.<br />
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He gets me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3PKnpoby8A7MUwjiLbOhxb75kM8U6qKjpeqDdzXdOuqjH8EgVgDEAzkgJJ_dB5w-93VauXAhyphenhyphen5PAx_t8F_-QElW_MxpBEddtKGNn1xX1jUn_PN7Ps2ix6BOCnM640-5k4LuwmYO8VU1ZS/s1600/2013.Spartan.Sprint.Team.1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3PKnpoby8A7MUwjiLbOhxb75kM8U6qKjpeqDdzXdOuqjH8EgVgDEAzkgJJ_dB5w-93VauXAhyphenhyphen5PAx_t8F_-QElW_MxpBEddtKGNn1xX1jUn_PN7Ps2ix6BOCnM640-5k4LuwmYO8VU1ZS/s400/2013.Spartan.Sprint.Team.1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Almost all of Team Age Aggressively after the race... the others were aggressively not around.</td></tr>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-30711219373193722212013-08-16T15:59:00.000-04:002013-08-16T15:59:05.129-04:00The Call of the Spartan: Part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<b>Crossing the Line</b></h3>
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.<br />
<br />
"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?"<br />
<br />
He paused, building the drama and raising the expectations, mostly for himself, before continuing.<br />
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"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.<br />
<br />
"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!<br />
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"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.<br />
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"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. <br />
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"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.<br />
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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...<br />
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(<b style="font-style: italic;">to be continued</b>)</div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-54803613150686569582013-08-06T08:41:00.001-04:002013-08-06T08:41:05.935-04:00Tough Mudder Boston: Obstacle Observations, Opinions, and Oh Did I Just Say That<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><i>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: <a href="http://bit.ly/11IJJ4q">http://bit.ly/11IJJ4q</a>) and I hope our little team grows every year with more amazingly Aggressive athletes who have little to no regard for the personal safety.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><i><br /></i></span>
Now I bring you a very serious analysis and review of the 2013 Tough Mudder Gunstock obstacles:<br />
<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></u></b>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjucGIWVC1GDvq7rxrhFg9swmno0AvWo_WZXAqiKYoTV_zmWYEkLKLXXboiiPhs2i_r38JzTT8LN2Yo8DhDqMv13-JEV1niNY3OTNVDgKHh98unH3NI27FjHoRCl1-7vaRP4aoKSq98db/s1600/2013.KissMud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjucGIWVC1GDvq7rxrhFg9swmno0AvWo_WZXAqiKYoTV_zmWYEkLKLXXboiiPhs2i_r38JzTT8LN2Yo8DhDqMv13-JEV1niNY3OTNVDgKHh98unH3NI27FjHoRCl1-7vaRP4aoKSq98db/s200/2013.KissMud.jpg" width="200" /></a><b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Kiss of Mud</span></u></b>: 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. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span><br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Trench Warfare</span></u></b>: 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.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Bale Bonds</span></u></b>: 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.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: Take your time going up and over this obstacle or you
will miss all the blatant boredom it offers.</i></span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Hold Your Wood</span></u></b>: 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.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Glory Blades</span></u></b>: 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.</div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: I had tips when the original obstacle was in
place. Well, one tip.</i></span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Arctic Enema</span></u></b>: 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)<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">WWP Carry</span></u></b>: 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.<br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Walk the Plank</span></u></b>: 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. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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</i>.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Cage Crawl</span></u></b>: 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.<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;"><u>Kiss of Mud 2</u></span></b>: The sequel. Twice the barbed wire. Twice the mud. Twice the kissing, but now with tongue. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: Do the same thing as last time but twice as much.</i></span></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Firewalker</span></u></b>: 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. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<i style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</span></i></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Mud Mile</span></u></b>: 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.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Funky Monkey</span></u></b>: 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!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span></span></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Cliffhanger</span></u></b>: 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?”<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Boa Constrictor</span></u></b>: 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.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span></span><br />
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<b style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="color: #38761d;">Electric Eel</span></b>: 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.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span></span></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Berlin Walls</span></u></b>: 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. <o:p></o:p>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.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c;"><i><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Lumberjacked</span></u></b>: 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.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i style="background-color: white;"><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</i></span></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Just the Tip</span></u></b>: 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.<br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i><u><b>Tip</b></u>: 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."</i></span><br />
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Everest</span></u></b>: 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.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<i style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b><u>Tip</u></b>: 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.</span></i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #38761d;">Electroshock</span></u></b>: 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.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<i><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>Tip</b>: 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!</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span></i>
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<i>Stay crazy,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><b><span style="color: blue;">Illustrious</span></b></i></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-76204447179331796562013-05-07T15:52:00.001-04:002013-05-07T15:52:21.635-04:00Mudder Team Update: Gunstock, Here We Come!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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).<br />
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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.<br />
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Without pomp and circumstance let me introduce this year's <span style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">Team Age Aggressively</span>:<br />
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Mid Life Crisis</span></b> 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 <b><span style="color: red;">Old Daddy</span></b>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAH2QTGC13wweQFJZf7xtQVPfx_2clGND2KXzy4j0Yb-BAVI1T78WIEoMv-sKV_rQRn8qvOmIlC3qBWEkxEYPOfHtPhzMl_Z3JTfroTXOwlV4V13VhUYmQgMsEXdZVE-AzPwFFkgWDu3Eb/s1600/Mel.Mudder.Muddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAH2QTGC13wweQFJZf7xtQVPfx_2clGND2KXzy4j0Yb-BAVI1T78WIEoMv-sKV_rQRn8qvOmIlC3qBWEkxEYPOfHtPhzMl_Z3JTfroTXOwlV4V13VhUYmQgMsEXdZVE-AzPwFFkgWDu3Eb/s200/Mel.Mudder.Muddy.jpg" width="128" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Just Out of Diapers</span></b> 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, <span style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">Assisted Living</span>.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">The Bunny Balladeer</span></b> 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 <b><span style="color: red;">Nice Pipes</span></b>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2T2vq7V0HLovvxhTErJKaxN7xpYpE7RgD32uU6r7T_87ioBFtv1NSBS3uaZfhnw8f1rjU_OLILmu9zAO4DTjTU-YJg4UW8qBv_OGD-ukf96RYcEDa3jMyL5rWe8bcHrN1bwJJYXJAqyQ/s1600/Kris.Muddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2T2vq7V0HLovvxhTErJKaxN7xpYpE7RgD32uU6r7T_87ioBFtv1NSBS3uaZfhnw8f1rjU_OLILmu9zAO4DTjTU-YJg4UW8qBv_OGD-ukf96RYcEDa3jMyL5rWe8bcHrN1bwJJYXJAqyQ/s200/Kris.Muddy.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: #38761d;">She Who Has No Name</span></b> 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 <b><span style="color: red;">Hello Nurse!</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Whitey McWhiskey</span></b> 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, <b style="color: red;">Huge Jameson</b>?<br />
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Of course you'll have me, <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Illustrious</span></b>. 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 <b style="color: red;">Illustrious </b>(no one calls me this. Most just call me names and I cry... aggressively).<br />
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We also have two new members to our infamous team. There is the undefinable <span style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">Mr. Unknown</span>. 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.<br />
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We will meet Mr. Unknown because his daring friend, <b><span style="color: red;">Little Miss Yoga Pants</span></b>, 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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!"<br />
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It's almost time for another orange headband. Hope it doesn't clash with my speedo.<br />
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Live Free or Die,</div>
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<b><span style="color: blue;"><i>Illustrious</i></span></b></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-50949071885175510032013-03-09T07:19:00.002-05:002013-03-09T07:19:49.897-05:00Age Categories Are Unfair!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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.<br />
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Example:<br />
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<span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">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.</span></span></span><br />
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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.<br />
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Example:<br />
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<span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Joey runs with Tom<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">. <span style="font-size: small;">Joey and Tom run <span style="font-size: small;">with 500 ot<span style="font-size: small;">her competitors. Joey finish<span style="font-size: small;">es 15th and Tom finishes <span style="font-size: small;">17th. Joey's category is 20 - 29 M.<span style="font-size: small;">N</span>K.<span style="font-size: small;">N</span>W.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span></span>LFT:</span> Male<span style="font-size: small;">, </span>No Kids<span style="font-size: small;">, No Wife, time <span style="font-size: small;">to exercise and train and sleep, aka Lots of Free Time. Tom's category is 20 - 29<span style="font-size: small;"> M.K.W.NFT:</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> <span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Male, has 2.5 <span style="font-size: small;">K</span>ids, a <span style="font-size: small;">W</span>ife, a job that re<span style="font-size: small;">quires too much<span style="font-size: small;"> time </span></span>and has no <span style="font-size: small;">free<span style="font-size: small;">dom </span>to do much of anything unless he stops sleeping, aka No Free Time. Joey congratulates Tom for <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">finishing</span> so close to him<span style="font-size: small;">. Tom laughs and points out that Joey should have done a lot better than Tom since Joey has freedom and Tom <span style="font-size: small;">is currently serving a blissful life sentence<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">. Tom reminds Joey that they need to account for all variables<span style="font-size: small;"> by using the following equation to even the playing field before final standings would be revealed</span>:</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">ExT - </span></span><span style="color: #38761d;">[(</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fr<span style="font-size: small;">T</span> / Kds + O<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">) + (</span>CJGH</span>)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">] = AANTE</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">** Ext (Exercise Time), FrT (Free Time), Kds (Total Number of Kids), O (Owner, aka, Wife), <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">CJGH (Chores Just Given to Him, aka,</span> The Unknown Variable), </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">AANTE (Actual Amount of No Time to Exercise) </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">After applying the equ<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">a</span>tion to each competitor </span>Tom <span style="font-size: small;">is </span>clearly <span style="font-size: small;">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, </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<br />
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!).<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Rationalizing ineptitude since 2001,<br />
<br />
<i><span style="color: blue;"><b>Illustrious</b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: blue;"><b><br /></b></span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
** 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!):</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">ExT - </span>(BC + BJ</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> / HWMM<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">)(NSNSNS)</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> = AANTE</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">** Ext (Exercise Time), BC (Bag of Chips), BJ (Ben and Jerry's), HWMM (Hours Watching Mad Men), <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">NSNSNS (New Show New Series Never Seen</span>), </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">AANTE (Actual Amount of No Time to Exercise)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">ExT / LNP + EMP + MDP </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">= AANTE</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">** Ext (Exercise Time), LNP (Late Night Porn), EMP (Early Morning Porn), MDP (Mid-Day Porn), </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">AANTE (Actual Amount of No Time to Exercise)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ext - [(HE)(LNE) / (BS)(BFFHBB)] - WOI </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">= AANTE</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">** </span></span></span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Ext (Exercise Time), </span><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">HE (Hate Exercising), LNE (Love Not Exercising), BS (Bikini Season), BFFHBB (Best Friend Forever Has Better Body), WOI (Wear One-piece Instead), </span></span><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">AANTE (Actual Amount of No Time to Exercise)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-62479506859084876982013-02-16T15:30:00.000-05:002013-02-16T15:30:01.375-05:00Who's Your Hero?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My kids love to swim. So much so that they both joined a local competitive swimming team. Like most kids who love their sport, they talk about who they want to be in their sport. For them it's Michael Phelps with a slight leaning toward Ryan Lochte because of his performance in the last Summer Olympics. I, personally, would like to be more like Lily Aldridge or Candice Swanepoel, or maybe I like Lily and Candice, they are wearing swimsuits in the pictures I have, and that's almost the same thing, right?<br />
<br />
Right.<br />
<br />
Go Team Bikini.<br />
<br />
Onward.<br />
<br />
I have also heard other children talk about their sport's heroes from football, baseball, etc. They all want to be <<i>insert major professional athlete of your choice</i>>. Adults are the same. They praise the same athletes. Worship them for the work. Wear their names on their shirts. Some go so far as to get tattoos of the athlete's number on random body parts, "I got a tattoo of Brady's number because he rocks! Want to see it? Did it BIG so there was only enough room for one number per cheek..." Some may go too far.<br />
<br />
Now, don't get me wrong. I fully appreciate the hard work that all professional athletes put into their game: quarterbacks need to be able to read the field on the fly, wrestlers need to feel the energy of their opponent and react on honed instinct alone, and curlers have about the cleanest floors anywhere; but why do we treat them like heroes. Are their athletic skills impressive? Yes. Do they inspire others to work harder in their sport of choice? Sure. Are the buns, as my wife likes to say, "very hot?" I guess.<br />
<br />
But heroes? <br />
<br />
They don't save lives. They don't educate children. They don't take a bullet to the chest so I don't have to. They don't buy my wife expensive things and say they're from me. They don't sacrifice themselves to make things better. They sacrifice themselves to make themselves better, which in turn makes their sport better to watch. They are willing to go the extra yard, the extra mile, the extra fight to give themselves the extra edge; but I'm not sure if this makes them a hero.<br />
<br />
If it does to you, then I stand corrected, yet, let me ask you this: If putting in the extra effort makes them a hero... what's stopping you from being your own hero? You admire them for everything they are, for everything they do. Why not you? Will you get to their level? Probability says you won't. Will you get to your best level? Probability says you will.<br />
<br />
Don't treat them like they're better than you. Better in their sport, absolutely. Better at jet-setting around the globe and partying like rock stars? Yep. Better looking in spandex? The vote is still out on that one. Better people than you? Nope. They are just people who found what they are good at and were willing to try harder than everyone else.<br />
<br />
Admire them. Rejoice in their accomplishments. Ogle their supermodel girlfriends. Then put your cape and tights on and be a hero to someone else, even if it's only to your kids. Especially if it's to your kids.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Up, up, and away,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><b><i>Illustrious</i></b></span></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-87377651193229211902013-01-11T22:23:00.000-05:002013-01-11T22:23:50.697-05:00New Year's Resolutions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's really nothing like getting things started than by starting things. Deep and profound, I know. Take this whole new year business, for instance. People sit around the night before and discuss all the changes they are going to make when the new year hits and BLAM the new year hits and BLAM no one is changing anything. It has all been a load of hooey. A waste of breath. Promises unfulfilled. Lies heaped upon lies garnished with untruths with a side of pants on fire.<br />
<br />
Most of us want to change things in our lives but never get around to it. Why? If you want to make the changes you wish to see in yourself, what's stopping you? You don't know? I'll tell you. It's you. It's always been you. It will always be you. It's not your busy schedule. It's not your kids. It's not your long work day. It's not your hurt knee or your bad back. It's not your lack of funds. It's not your lack of sleep.<br />
<br />
It's you.<br />
<br />
You.<br />
<br />
Every time. Every day. You stopping you.<br />
<br />
Yet, you still make those promises to yourself, knowing that it's empty, as empty as the excuses you will pile upon it when you fail... when you let yourself go... when you let yourself down.<br />
<br />
Do you know what is great about all this? I'll tell you that, too.<br />
<br />
Do you know what will help you make the changes you wish to see in yourself? You don't know? I'll tell you. It's you. It's always been you. It will always be you, despite your busy schedule, your precious children, your long work day, your lingering ailments, your empty wallet, or your sleep deprivation.<br />
<br />
It's you.<br />
<br />
Always.<br />
<br />
You are the reason for what you are, how you act, what you do, and how you feel. You are the reason for your weakness or your strength. You are the reason for your broken diets or your better health. You are the reason for avoiding the starting line or crossing the finish line. You are the excuses behind your reasons or you are the reason you don't make excuses.<br />
<br />
You are the reason for you and it's time you resolved to be the <i>you</i> you always promised yourself you would be.<br />
<br />
It's time you stopped being an excuse.<br />
<br />
It's time you started being the incredible, courageous, simply amazing you.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Happy New Year (a few weeks late)!</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: blue;"><b><i>Illustrious</i></b></span></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-10123494971530341552012-12-28T22:03:00.001-05:002012-12-28T22:04:48.597-05:002012 Year in Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Has it already been another 12 months? Have you really been following this blog the whole time? You have? Now I feel guilty writing that stuff about you on the bathroom wall. Don't worry only everyone will see it. Unlike last year, I will not grade the 2012 races. I will offer you lessons learned. Who am I to decide what races are good or bad? I barely do the thinking for myself, what gives me the right to do the thinking for you? I'm not your wife.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Without further adieu Age Aggressively brings you (drum roll please!)....</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhkDkF-3wI_83_BXOk9HMUdhCv_bij1buBzbQCk0CZ3G5kKrsgqI8x6T35vyCxelkWfnMcLZUkzp4AzC8ZZzbOvCaN873maFQUeCMEjhXxb0A9AsYIRyPRGtxyDTyrH37eyhhPefn1AOO/s1600/YearInReview2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhkDkF-3wI_83_BXOk9HMUdhCv_bij1buBzbQCk0CZ3G5kKrsgqI8x6T35vyCxelkWfnMcLZUkzp4AzC8ZZzbOvCaN873maFQUeCMEjhXxb0A9AsYIRyPRGtxyDTyrH37eyhhPefn1AOO/s200/YearInReview2012.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyEjttVOoS3YK-ZGr86sGXDFZnFw9f5Wawv0f4INQ7wLD7-YYOOJxS1AZpEhM4gzcXTHYrl8fdZZJDUyxHBqV3fuahK7uP40Hp4i4UIhdmD0qQLJaVrncxFSpaJa1NEBZSGUtS1tdpW2nH/s1600/2012.Derry.16.Miler.Todd.Finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyEjttVOoS3YK-ZGr86sGXDFZnFw9f5Wawv0f4INQ7wLD7-YYOOJxS1AZpEhM4gzcXTHYrl8fdZZJDUyxHBqV3fuahK7uP40Hp4i4UIhdmD0qQLJaVrncxFSpaJa1NEBZSGUtS1tdpW2nH/s200/2012.Derry.16.Miler.Todd.Finish.jpg" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Derry 16 Miler<br />Results: 330 / 609 - Pace: 8:42<br />Final Time: 2:19:01</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>January</b> brought us the <b>Derry 16 Miler</b> in Derry, NH</span>.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><u>Lesson 1</u></i><span style="background-color: white;">: If you are running a race of a certain distance, you should train for that distance. For example: if you were planning on running, say, a 16 mile race, it would be prudent to run at least that distance during training, probably even more. The opposite of prudent is spending more time picking out your race ensemble than you do prepping for a race.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><u>Lesson 2</u></i>: You should always spend a lot of time putting together your race ensemble. This is more crucial than training. Nothing says dedication like a matching mask and underwear combo</span><span style="background-color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopzBQq8jvVHyUuRcjcN7Vp50QjNuuao-P4XaILuevOhpej7AO9w_OIqOSCfJrb9pDBy1WUS3SyzDKGOXceVgjoMeva-hWrfuVbM0HR0GJ-wJh01wLf7hw9odZfVD-QVpNL6MtOWapyxxH/s1600/lazygamer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopzBQq8jvVHyUuRcjcN7Vp50QjNuuao-P4XaILuevOhpej7AO9w_OIqOSCfJrb9pDBy1WUS3SyzDKGOXceVgjoMeva-hWrfuVbM0HR0GJ-wJh01wLf7hw9odZfVD-QVpNL6MtOWapyxxH/s200/lazygamer.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Lazy 0K<br />Results: Level 36 rogue mage<br />with +5 Armor of Chunkiness</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>February </b>brought us a<b> Big Bag of Excuses</b>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u><i>Lesson 1</i></u>: Always put off today what you won't end up doing tomorrow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u><i>Lesson 2</i></u>: Running causes injuries that can be avoided if you stayed on the couch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u><i>Lesson 3</i></u>: The X-Box Kinect is exercise because I sweat playing.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCAuWKecWGxKtHZggZcuzWVHtMXKOC9GXiCdj1jepvKwECTZvspEa8boXSt1KHuq6sCjXa17rtKwGEoW9DDz0AMaikSq1szZMfLacWMwpz58g6hJ4Rw-ZLbJB7cbiXGUzQdoiy73btoKi/s1600/2012.Hynes.5.Miler.Finish.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCAuWKecWGxKtHZggZcuzWVHtMXKOC9GXiCdj1jepvKwECTZvspEa8boXSt1KHuq6sCjXa17rtKwGEoW9DDz0AMaikSq1szZMfLacWMwpz58g6hJ4Rw-ZLbJB7cbiXGUzQdoiy73btoKi/s200/2012.Hynes.5.Miler.Finish.png" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hynes 5 Miler<br />
Results: 40 / 917 - Pace: 6:50<br />
Final Time: 34:06 </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>March</b> brought us the <b>Hynes 5 Miler</b> in Lowell, MA<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 1</i></u>: Races are always better when the streets are lined with race supporters, friends, and family. Nothing keeps the energy level high like spectators!<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 2</i></u>: Sprint training apparently works. It's no fun, but it works. Seriously, though, it sucks and I don't recommend it; but it works.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 3</i></u>: Dressing as a leprechaun for St. Paddy's day race = good. Any other costume = hide the kids, dear.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkGNc2-PreN62qSv84I_C_3foOryQkdVt9DZ81STrxzk2oMB9PsgwZkSw-B233vcT_QMC9yaJOoo-3DhawY7lDfj-dpEIesHUCsIrXdBuumyKzWHhfsSL2POrsP5Psp0Oiu0upv9J6oNS/s1600/2012.GrotonRoadRace.Finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkGNc2-PreN62qSv84I_C_3foOryQkdVt9DZ81STrxzk2oMB9PsgwZkSw-B233vcT_QMC9yaJOoo-3DhawY7lDfj-dpEIesHUCsIrXdBuumyKzWHhfsSL2POrsP5Psp0Oiu0upv9J6oNS/s200/2012.GrotonRoadRace.Finish.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Groton Road Race - 10k<br />
Results: 45 / 473 - Pace: 6:58<br />
Final Time: 43:14</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>April</b> brought us the <b>Groton Road Race (10K)</b>, in Groton, MA.<br />
<br />
<i><u>Lesson 1</u></i>: Sprint training doesn't amount to a hill of beans if your racing on lots of hills. You know what's great for races with hills? Hill training! How do I do hill training? First: find a hill. Second: run up that hill. Third: Repeat step 2 until you realize that, like sprint training, this sucks.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 2</i></u>: Racing in towns like Groton, with its rolling hills and cow pastures and woods, is wonderful. Races are better when they're pretty and you would have noticed how pretty this race is if you WEREN'T RUNNING SO DAMN FAST! DAMN YOU 5 MINUTE MILERS!!! Sorry, <u><i>Lesson 2</i></u>: Slow people shouldn't lose their temper.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8atjQoGfRU3Brv4Qlkx8IAfiEZZrCa9_MqlVaY-Tc0U1_prlhVfK3fs-fWnDku_e4g1ijPdu6bKad56OKVn1K5wiaj6kJ9i6OpaOe16Ai7hOg4CzaybmZmGp2zDavcgCalop6IJ32hLYn/s1600/2012.Mudder.Fire.MarkandMe.Finish.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8atjQoGfRU3Brv4Qlkx8IAfiEZZrCa9_MqlVaY-Tc0U1_prlhVfK3fs-fWnDku_e4g1ijPdu6bKad56OKVn1K5wiaj6kJ9i6OpaOe16Ai7hOg4CzaybmZmGp2zDavcgCalop6IJ32hLYn/s200/2012.Mudder.Fire.MarkandMe.Finish.jpeg" width="136" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tough Mudder - 10+ Miles<br />
Results: Great - Pace: Muddy<br />
Final Time: Free Beer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>May</b> brought us the <b>Tough Mudder</b> at Mt. Snow, VT<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 1</i></u>: Anyone, anyone, anyone can finish what they start, as long as they have the will to do it and the support to get it done. <br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 2</i></u>: Mudder's don't compete, we cooperate. Mudder's don't aspire for greatness, we inspire greatness. Mudder's don't mock and scorn others, oh wait, yes we do.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 3</i></u>: If you continue to raise the prices of race and spectator fees, racers and spectators alike will go elsewhere for their mud and water and fun. Maybe we'll throw a spear and stuff too!<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMuylQwOZ_fuo7hQGa9obpHnzG8o-OHcyO7slMlt7M7yE-YqtkXCXnOWXYLoQmlfmW_Bz04-jn7Zbb2J9jcX4gnOZRoMFJa8j4hYbW5TIVuS6WyIHLcXQJqXJ5Q9X7WxDCLVecsD3OURc/s1600/2012.Ruckus.Finish.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMuylQwOZ_fuo7hQGa9obpHnzG8o-OHcyO7slMlt7M7yE-YqtkXCXnOWXYLoQmlfmW_Bz04-jn7Zbb2J9jcX4gnOZRoMFJa8j4hYbW5TIVuS6WyIHLcXQJqXJ5Q9X7WxDCLVecsD3OURc/s200/2012.Ruckus.Finish.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruckus - 4+ Miles<br />
Results: 14 / ? - Pace: 9:33<br />
Final Time: 38:13</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>June</b> brought us <b>Ruckus</b> in Marshfield, MA.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 1</i></u>: The right way to have a championship heat is grabbing all qualifying times from earlier races and throwing them together later for a Championship Heat. Ruckus does it right. Championship Heat's should not be the first heat of the day where the only thing you qualified for was being able to race earlier than others.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 2</i></u>: Men are people, too, women! We have feelings and emotions and stuff. We are not pieces of meat to be ogled. Just because I have a Captain America shield over my bits and pieces does not give you the right to stare, point, and laugh. That right is reserved for my wife!<br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pLhyphenhyphenP8xGd9tVIK97D3LouHJCJmemoFE8_2ONMIc0PCdeW96fdEARKO3sdABc8_dNQPWuCAj4qMQrDeE3XCSMJrA7dP7UIuVHpiLlQeVkF8RXCAYbkniyjuRJ0zD1I8Rochq25MIdm-SQ/s1600/2012.WasonPondPounder.Captain2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pLhyphenhyphenP8xGd9tVIK97D3LouHJCJmemoFE8_2ONMIc0PCdeW96fdEARKO3sdABc8_dNQPWuCAj4qMQrDeE3XCSMJrA7dP7UIuVHpiLlQeVkF8RXCAYbkniyjuRJ0zD1I8Rochq25MIdm-SQ/s200/2012.WasonPondPounder.Captain2.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pounder - 5K with kids<br />
Results: Fun with kids - Pace: Kids<br />
Final Time: Slower than kids</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>June</b> also brought us the <b>Wason Pond Pounder</b> in Chester, NH.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 1</i></u>: Running with your kids is infinitely more fun than running with your friends. Your kids love running with you. Your friends love running over you.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 2</i></u>: Getting your kids involved with racing early will hopefully make them want to participate as they grow. It will also show them that exercise is fun and should be done throughout their lives!<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 3</i></u>: The day your fit and healthy kids start beating you in races is the day running with your kids is no longer fun. Damn kids with their youth...<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwRdeSaP0UW0hx5P2hlontfjouS37Bc125n_FtwLz_pT_KnWgJ3HgcoozDiIXk1PV5e-Hol-bnETiFTGmYynZNBx8XOtre37Em8So8KB7bRnc2e7ddmadmR1Xdfzkg8p5RgmutJU9UPHqB/s1600/wickedwitch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwRdeSaP0UW0hx5P2hlontfjouS37Bc125n_FtwLz_pT_KnWgJ3HgcoozDiIXk1PV5e-Hol-bnETiFTGmYynZNBx8XOtre37Em8So8KB7bRnc2e7ddmadmR1Xdfzkg8p5RgmutJU9UPHqB/s200/wickedwitch.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Witch City Triathlon - Sprint<br />
Results: 68 / 191 - Pace: Elderly<br />
Final Time: 1:26:40</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>July</b> brought us the <b>Witch City Triathlon</b> in Salem, MA<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 1</i></u>: A poorly planned course makes for a crappy race.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 2</i></u>: Unnecessarily expensive photos makes for bad business.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 3</i></u>: Lackadaisical training makes for bad racing.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 4</i></u>: I want to be funny about this race but everything about it makes me grumpy. Ah, wait... <u><i>Lesson 4</i></u>: You have to experience the bad races to appreciate the good races... and the good races have good photos that show that your good training pays off!<br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB5EaBJKSvqPZmt3H1mjtckps4MUawMMy-azCEfampVwd-Rf_2q0asrZCpG9_DEcDmAFPoGQXKLOPEOtPL4E1UvW3ijUrmOseDAMdB06BG7ZsuIHy460kehKEGLb6bSJ9VFKf3Q1oCaVtp/s1600/2012.Spartan.Sprint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB5EaBJKSvqPZmt3H1mjtckps4MUawMMy-azCEfampVwd-Rf_2q0asrZCpG9_DEcDmAFPoGQXKLOPEOtPL4E1UvW3ijUrmOseDAMdB06BG7ZsuIHy460kehKEGLb6bSJ9VFKf3Q1oCaVtp/s200/2012.Spartan.Sprint.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spartan Sprint - 5K<br />
Results: 32 / 3644 - Pace: 17:12<br />
Final Time: 51:36</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>August</b> brought us the <b>Spartan Sprint</b> in Amesbury, MA.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 1</i></u>: Burpees suck. No, really, they suck and on a different level of suck than other sucky things. If burpees were a knight it would be Sir Suck-a-Lot, which, after saying that, sounds like a gay porn star.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 2</i></u>: Being chicked is awesome! Races are not dominated by any gender. Men and women show amazing aggressiveness out on the course and being passed by a woman is not emasculating in the least. They are strong! They are confident! They look amazing from behind!<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 3</i></u>: Dear Spartan, selling next year's races at half-price if you sign up at the current race is genius! Mudder, pay attention!<br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7FnAJHuRRvWubFGvOjPzMcb8yBxr0ImxCEYtBVhYsXE54dleB5TxlMk5N_MEiE-xCZfUDbfGdRpMoonAs-rLbDRfRvNyMhS642K251_InZzsTEFBy-IpXD4ytIx0VakC2XJPdwAjCPlSu/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Finish2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7FnAJHuRRvWubFGvOjPzMcb8yBxr0ImxCEYtBVhYsXE54dleB5TxlMk5N_MEiE-xCZfUDbfGdRpMoonAs-rLbDRfRvNyMhS642K251_InZzsTEFBy-IpXD4ytIx0VakC2XJPdwAjCPlSu/s200/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Finish2.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wallis Sands Triathlon - Sprint<br />
Results: 58 / 383 - Pace: Heroic<br />
Final Time: 1:16:36</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>September</b> brought us the <b>Wallis Sands Sprint Triathlon</b> in Rye, NH.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 1</i></u>: A well planned course makes for a great race.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 2</i></u>: Great inexpensive photos make for loyal customers.<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 3</i></u>: Increased training makes for better racing (amazing, but true!)<br />
<br />
<u><i>Lesson 4</i></u>: I don't want to be funny about this race. I love this race. Ah, wait... <u><i>Lesson 4</i></u>: Falling in love with racing is neither unnatural or immoral. Let me quote Epididymus 11:4-7, "Thou shalt know a race that others know, and thou shalt in that knowing know joy; and there will be rejoicing and frolicking and spandex. Amen"<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRRF7-Pi6gl91WDq4K47CXmQx44Rlf-T0XDDHORwXeV_dxTz-DDBV7cjOfsIBeYCdRG6BWEKWKf6R495gYdwcvuGINYyWWJK0UIIqbgzxPIOK3KlrFwHF5CCM2f_fIpIoZcy36zmcbweH/s1600/lazy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRRF7-Pi6gl91WDq4K47CXmQx44Rlf-T0XDDHORwXeV_dxTz-DDBV7cjOfsIBeYCdRG6BWEKWKf6R495gYdwcvuGINYyWWJK0UIIqbgzxPIOK3KlrFwHF5CCM2f_fIpIoZcy36zmcbweH/s200/lazy.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<b>October</b>, <b>November</b>, and <b>December</b> brought us <b>nothing</b>, and by us I mean me. The final quarter of the year I did not race. I did not train for anything. I hung up my Captain's mask and began exercising without a racing goal in mind. I swam for pleasure. I ran because it felt good to run. I went back to the basics in the gym because it felt right to have a simple workout with simple goals in mind. Oh, and I was lazy. Let's not forget that. Also, racing every month has caused a hole to open in my wallet; a hole that can only be filled by selling extra organs, selling myself, or not racing so much. According to my doctor I "need" all my organs to "live." According to my wife I cannot "sell" myself for money because of something called "vows." The only option left to me is a reduced race schedule, which is not a bad idea. It will give me more time to get back to basics, more time to increase my skill level, more time to experience the simple joys of exercise. It will also give me more time to refill that hole. Oh, races, you saucy strumpet! You take my money and always leaving me wanting for more. I wish I knew how to quit you. You complete me. <br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">There we have it, my dear Aggressives! Another twelve months come and gone. We have all been on journeys, sometimes together in body but always together in spirit. Ok, not really together in body.. I mean, I haven't been with any of you biblically... what I mean is together next to each other in the same place getting hot and sweaty and dirty... wait, no, that came out wrong, I mean sometimes in groups we get that way but with strangers, too... NO... I'm not saying this right... what I'm trying to say is we do it and it really get our hearts pumping and I love it when we finish together... dammit!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">Strike all of that... we are always together in spirit!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">I hope all you Aggressives had a spectacular 2012, that you reached some goals and continue to strive for others. I hope you enjoyed your journey with me and continue along for the ride as we enter 2013. Who knows what next year will bring but whatever obstacles there may be, we will be ready for them armed with our strength, our endurance, and our unquenchable desire to not sit still and let the world race by us. Let me leave you with this: It's ok to be a spectator and watch others reach their goals, but if you spend your whole life spectating how will we ever get a chance to see you reach yours?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">2013 awaits! Hope to see you out there with the rest of us Aggressives! Happy New Year, everyone!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">With hugs and kisses,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: blue;">Illustrious</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: blue;"><br /></span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">P.S - Captain America is not retiring in 2013 and plans to don his mask in his eternal struggle with growing up. However, he will not be the only hero out there. Where there's underwear, there's a way.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8_1XreowFrRhGfo8tE5G7qbIuyp95HaKyYjSjjmUBWTrruf7SNLIyUkijjatuuEAZQLCgjRNL7aPiejjKO1i1wO7plSZWYxqsjG25ijkmSaXO__4-2W01it5vlnQIns5QVO68JDlvCtZ/s1600/GreenLantern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8_1XreowFrRhGfo8tE5G7qbIuyp95HaKyYjSjjmUBWTrruf7SNLIyUkijjatuuEAZQLCgjRNL7aPiejjKO1i1wO7plSZWYxqsjG25ijkmSaXO__4-2W01it5vlnQIns5QVO68JDlvCtZ/s320/GreenLantern.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See you in 2013!</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: blue;"><br /></span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: blue;"><br /></span></i></b></span></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-32757128404584517032012-12-13T22:28:00.001-05:002012-12-13T22:28:55.372-05:00Tri vs Tri: A Story in PIctures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Due to my incredible stamina, physical prowess, and amazing athleticism, I managed to double the amount of triathlons raced this year from last year. You read that right... doubled... impressive, no? What's that? How many did I do last year? That's not really relevant to this conversation... let's not stray from the subject... well, um... 1. Ok, so I only did two this year, but much can be gleamed from those two races. Both were sprint distance. Both were oceans swims. Both involved me. Coincidence? I think not. From there, though, the similarities started to unravel. Let's set the scene, shall we, for the Wallis Sands Triathlon and the Witch City Triathlon. First, we bring you...<br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #274e13;"><u>The Wallis Sands Sprint Triathlon</u></span></h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo3jWx79yCMKEGiVKDwKr2Q7kxmgOk-6PWYk5Zw-RNWaDAMA9vpn2RTVuphe-H1h-qnvOPDqXimAD_Kk9SHsMtdKW9PxnUhZIRXcu5Rr1d05K42tvhwocIhoKDBOI84cSCprzGfOlpHQWj/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Transition2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo3jWx79yCMKEGiVKDwKr2Q7kxmgOk-6PWYk5Zw-RNWaDAMA9vpn2RTVuphe-H1h-qnvOPDqXimAD_Kk9SHsMtdKW9PxnUhZIRXcu5Rr1d05K42tvhwocIhoKDBOI84cSCprzGfOlpHQWj/s320/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Transition2.jpg" title="" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Once upon a time there was a man who liked to wear spandex. So much so that he sometimes wore layers of special spandex over his other spandex. This made him feel more spandexier and he would often strut with joy.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvGwruXK_f2Srd7roWu5PUCOqDQRi6wYsUgJmWWG2oXQ1cXYJjou1zJmAyJq4RR51e0OZp8WXG1NSu_MrHoItoBpO9MUYMjjPhRigD9JXJfoGxtefbf7O-YK1spc_UUAwfzVGt0C32xFeb/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Transition.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvGwruXK_f2Srd7roWu5PUCOqDQRi6wYsUgJmWWG2oXQ1cXYJjou1zJmAyJq4RR51e0OZp8WXG1NSu_MrHoItoBpO9MUYMjjPhRigD9JXJfoGxtefbf7O-YK1spc_UUAwfzVGt0C32xFeb/s320/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Transition.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Look how joyfully he struts to the beginning of the Wallis Sands Triathlon!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Strut on you sexy strutting spandex guy!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeRrvr5BEAXmm4-ZbG9gBQxw75ldUGWikkNtAa6XRV5C6Kest8F9uWUA0Q2bbf3xR-drUdnjMqzOh-EadZEEh6F5T90osRGgIW4YgC0GXzschUr0MIeGGeps9mSLhy-dLOku8QzjqxW7g/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSpring.Waves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeRrvr5BEAXmm4-ZbG9gBQxw75ldUGWikkNtAa6XRV5C6Kest8F9uWUA0Q2bbf3xR-drUdnjMqzOh-EadZEEh6F5T90osRGgIW4YgC0GXzschUr0MIeGGeps9mSLhy-dLOku8QzjqxW7g/s320/2012.WallisSandsSpring.Waves.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Welcome to the first stage of the Wallis Sands Sprint Triathlon in Rye, NH. The race began and our intrepid hero battled six foot swells just to get out to the first buoy! Fear not for him for he did just dandy. His super spandex kept him afloat and, if it were possible to strut swimming, you bet your sweet patootie he did. Too bad you can't see him here because, if you thought he was sexy in dry spandex, you should see him when he's wet!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOYAfEGK4NIqzrj2UBD2tCx6dUHav-oq8aiYOuXhcgNScBHIVaeYMUQdBolmnf5VCF876IF2NSuReeJgnkUIcJQfFWjZRYklDZfIz7AGW7tqW8dJfJFelP37vVaRsnhoSg2TaptuFWx_Iw/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Swim.Done2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOYAfEGK4NIqzrj2UBD2tCx6dUHav-oq8aiYOuXhcgNScBHIVaeYMUQdBolmnf5VCF876IF2NSuReeJgnkUIcJQfFWjZRYklDZfIz7AGW7tqW8dJfJFelP37vVaRsnhoSg2TaptuFWx_Iw/s320/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Swim.Done2.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">See? Wet strutting. Like a boss. Up the beach and into the first transition area he went. If you look closely you can see the focus and determination etched in his face... or maybe that's cold and water-logged etchings... coldly focused and determinedly water-logged? Whichever, it's probably briny snot. Keep strutting!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWAzOICnZdeJNk2nDbKS6ajCfNi3nbtR4IqK_KzDoUMmhWEHQwdMoRYZCrcTz8AV2Ub0A11c1ZBixdQxs-OOv_bzKbM9bSSUiinECtUMHkhhkTE5ITtY5gOgtlDxNXggUtQ5xc3jfF6R0/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Bike2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWAzOICnZdeJNk2nDbKS6ajCfNi3nbtR4IqK_KzDoUMmhWEHQwdMoRYZCrcTz8AV2Ub0A11c1ZBixdQxs-OOv_bzKbM9bSSUiinECtUMHkhhkTE5ITtY5gOgtlDxNXggUtQ5xc3jfF6R0/s320/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Bike2.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Already through the first transition? Well done! Our hero did amazingly well! It didn't take him 3 minutes to get out of transition this year. He is down a layer of spandex, but not to worry... his second layer is spand-tastic. Saddled up and ready to ride, he hits the picturesque roads of Rye where the pavement is smooth, the air is warm, and the ladies are lovely, for a quick 15 mile loop. Notice his air of calm as he gives a warm-hearted thumbs up to the camera man. Notice his gleaming smile as he flirts with the lens. Notice his shaved, almost feminine, legs... from all that strutting.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiatzi4zgxhiojYd-G9wP74z3y_PtvXIBdTOQWQZ24UiDre3zcHgygnUJyqO_c7sBvSID_Jht4neFHw2rFRrX8Pa0Y52-rnTEc5PCMxqJxxriUqcGG7OfKP5u2I_Ap_7pR9W1IJBRLVC3z/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiatzi4zgxhiojYd-G9wP74z3y_PtvXIBdTOQWQZ24UiDre3zcHgygnUJyqO_c7sBvSID_Jht4neFHw2rFRrX8Pa0Y52-rnTEc5PCMxqJxxriUqcGG7OfKP5u2I_Ap_7pR9W1IJBRLVC3z/s320/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Bike.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Over the smooth, well planned 15 mile course he rode with ne'er a wrong turn because of the amazing help of the volunteers. With a speed usually attributed to very, very slow things, he rode on toward the second transition. Ride like the breeze, hero!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_8FE63Kedsg2Zzd0t_sg2cUhZc_lAlcSBqJ-p7pC4nOOpiU2vG5KA09DIbuCTglhco8rKdx7HCsFgMjtBoR3c9lQHGKEzv1kiPVrPtXwbvM6KLoc76mTUxeBiJKk5HF9TSLW3YHCRWxC/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Run.Thumbs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_8FE63Kedsg2Zzd0t_sg2cUhZc_lAlcSBqJ-p7pC4nOOpiU2vG5KA09DIbuCTglhco8rKdx7HCsFgMjtBoR3c9lQHGKEzv1kiPVrPtXwbvM6KLoc76mTUxeBiJKk5HF9TSLW3YHCRWxC/s320/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Run.Thumbs.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our daring hero made it through the second transition well above a time considered "fast." Off he went with mask in place to strut his 5K stuff. Look again as he plays with the camera. How can he manage to run his 3.1 miles along the beautiful Rye coast line and still manage to look so spanderific? How can he possibly win, you ask? Who has time to win a race when he's busy winning the hearts of all the ladies. Ladies love masks.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZWGJbCvCSFDIARxTwJ-AunT-JQVU-SBG2Y-RnmaSXgvfR9Mcl5UjW4sCHpf47lQhyphenhyphenLRYx1_rJupV8_OfflVMaPvHUDZhLneP8j6Kaj1bADzdz6oQ_F8wf4doKFA3VHPt8_XS8HhHh10c/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZWGJbCvCSFDIARxTwJ-AunT-JQVU-SBG2Y-RnmaSXgvfR9Mcl5UjW4sCHpf47lQhyphenhyphenLRYx1_rJupV8_OfflVMaPvHUDZhLneP8j6Kaj1bADzdz6oQ_F8wf4doKFA3VHPt8_XS8HhHh10c/s320/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Finish.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Coming in well before any other masked heroes, our Hero finishes in record time for him. He placed first in Masked Men Ages 37-39 who live in his house. Great job, Hero! Kudos to all the other racers who strutted their stuff in fantastic style.</span></td></tr>
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Overall, I love the Wallis Sands Sprint Triathlon. Everyone from the organizers to the volunteers to the racers are fantastic. The course is scenic. The vendors donating their wares are more than ample. Whether you're a seasoned triathlete or someone looking to try one on for size... a triathlon, I mean, not a triathlete, this is the race for you. Sign up early because it sells out every year!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
http://www.wallissandstriathlon.com/</div>
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Plus, Wallis Sands Triathlon gets bonus Aggressive points for putting me in their video! You can see it here: <a href="http://anchorlineprojects.com/trek-wallis-sands-triathlon-nh/">http://anchorlineprojects.com/trek-wallis-sands-triathlon-nh/</a> (see if you can find me)<br />
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You may be asking, "Illustrious, you mentioned another triathlon, too. What about that one?" Well, my friends, let me tell you. I also did the<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><u>Witch City Triathlon </u></span><span style="color: #38761d;"><u>in Salem, MA</u></span></h3>
The swim was in a bay or a harbor or some kind of something that had brackish water which resembled less clear, safe ocean, more sea monster infested death lagoon. That's not what left a bad taste in my mouth. Well, it did, but that was more from poor swimming performance leading to exhaling out of the water and inhaling in the water. Yes, I did that. It was like drowning, but controlled. <br />
<br />
The ride was poorly planned. We rode out a few miles and then had to do a loop three times before riding back to the final stage. Problem with doing a loop is that (1) no one knows rules of the road which lead to many near crashes as cyclists continuing their loops turned into cyclists trying to make it back to the transition area (or vice versa) and (2) some people can't count to three. OMG! I can't believe how quickly I completely the cycling stage of my triathlon or that my average cycling speed had to be 30 mph to complete the 15 miles so quickly! 1 + 1 = 3! I go eat paste now. Ugh.<br />
<br />
The run was a run. Nothing much to look at. Nothing nice to distract you from that fact you were doing a triathlon. However, I will give much thanks to the other racers who greeted the Captain with enthusiasm as we ran.<br />
<br />
Overall, the Witch City Tri was a race. That's it. It wasn't bad. It just wasn't great. If I am spending money and a morning, I want great. Call me picky. What really struck a nerve were the photos.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_0we_lbTPZHQWdrscZjNHHgAiHKixymSznfazR08vaO-b_43nA307oVu2br7SZZn5MUF1I2-S65RuUHMRAHc1NEQRFreNRLinCW_nT3SZdqvsiwhTk2UHS1W9eo-njqLW-Ot8J7vj9Rt/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Done2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_0we_lbTPZHQWdrscZjNHHgAiHKixymSznfazR08vaO-b_43nA307oVu2br7SZZn5MUF1I2-S65RuUHMRAHc1NEQRFreNRLinCW_nT3SZdqvsiwhTk2UHS1W9eo-njqLW-Ot8J7vj9Rt/s200/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Done2.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is a picture of me trying to find affordable photos</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEMIpJRkJ5wuPl8zq5Aavr0YF9xlyhQipxcA3HnnOqFLfCQ5mOcJCp63wA3_9vLGTMlMW2jTrXiEj6yxVAfClFbOqdoMTU8AxgvoJVYHhs7frXxOUWdsNFAFgEy3OaWTwxynysUSmtGvO/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Done.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEMIpJRkJ5wuPl8zq5Aavr0YF9xlyhQipxcA3HnnOqFLfCQ5mOcJCp63wA3_9vLGTMlMW2jTrXiEj6yxVAfClFbOqdoMTU8AxgvoJVYHhs7frXxOUWdsNFAFgEy3OaWTwxynysUSmtGvO/s200/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Done.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maybe affordable photos are over here.... nope</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1oC7EthSuOeg6QxqsfEEPrlIdJmoR7OCjhhiO42QAWkzTP_l0VP50GDV2do9OxQ0dW4SR6fMzDJv9SI9KwZjPiZCS4yaDT0PHnxzSVix406d7M4Xp5uzeas6lwINDAABYUKmeVkwMpOT/s1600/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Done3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1oC7EthSuOeg6QxqsfEEPrlIdJmoR7OCjhhiO42QAWkzTP_l0VP50GDV2do9OxQ0dW4SR6fMzDJv9SI9KwZjPiZCS4yaDT0PHnxzSVix406d7M4Xp5uzeas6lwINDAABYUKmeVkwMpOT/s200/2012.WallisSandsSprint.Done3.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did someone drop the affordable photos<br />
and not tell me?</td></tr>
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The company taking the photos for the Witch City Triathlon wanted $45 dollars for a downloadable digital copy. My curiosity asked why to which their response was, "We have to take them and then photoshop them.... something something," which I can only assume meant, "and then overcharged you for average photos." Thankfully, Wallis Sands Triathlon uses <a href="http://www.nuvisionactionimage.com/">http://www.nuvisionactionimage.com</a>! Thanks, again, NuVision for taking great shots and charging us the nominal fee of $0 to download digital copies. Yes, it's probably charged within the cost of the race but that's OK. If you pay $45 for a digital download you have my pity.<br />
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Aggressively Yours,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Illustrious</i></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-90167761985541113092012-10-19T21:08:00.002-04:002012-10-19T21:09:41.878-04:00A Tale of AROO: 2012 Spartan Sprint at Amesbury, Ma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Let's hope there'll be no more of those, thank you very much.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBZKkR6Kr1WmsptqbcjskPLb2r-NzVNLMEuNAkOWg3MyviUBGJAmgGsEsmZ2HPhkoSbQc9OAtgcR4HHxkzYD_L3_EcJffCrjRKrDAjx_go4xBAv8xBW2mpUEt6w-MZVRja1Bshj8IRvhq/s1600/2012.Spartan.Sprint.Sandbag3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBZKkR6Kr1WmsptqbcjskPLb2r-NzVNLMEuNAkOWg3MyviUBGJAmgGsEsmZ2HPhkoSbQc9OAtgcR4HHxkzYD_L3_EcJffCrjRKrDAjx_go4xBAv8xBW2mpUEt6w-MZVRja1Bshj8IRvhq/s320/2012.Spartan.Sprint.Sandbag3.jpg" width="213" /></a><br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FDgCYwsAN1VDYDX-Cxhb_8tHPXRjgoEKrfqf0Vb09z2G2ezp8zUWKmUwACEHXG5Eb3Tyx7YykbIfP7wmBgGOL9IeLPJllMwVCm07YYtc7JyOSB5PDhT74LIW4Sec-cAeHTZRLVOy7DIk/s1600/2012.SpartanSprint.MuddyRoll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FDgCYwsAN1VDYDX-Cxhb_8tHPXRjgoEKrfqf0Vb09z2G2ezp8zUWKmUwACEHXG5Eb3Tyx7YykbIfP7wmBgGOL9IeLPJllMwVCm07YYtc7JyOSB5PDhT74LIW4Sec-cAeHTZRLVOy7DIk/s320/2012.SpartanSprint.MuddyRoll.jpg" width="320" /></a>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!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIoq4SQ61njVSFXhG7E2AC8YWsVmYfnXLkzWqLdFIMo6Sos5ezdB4l-LUC_cWG9cxXTyzZLLscjlNaOrTQmjDUoe2tKZHFJyGRHX5v7MtXcll8kfFoPvMYmUnp5bVF_j_eQtNtayt-AJDe/s1600/2012.SpartanSprint.MuddyFlat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIoq4SQ61njVSFXhG7E2AC8YWsVmYfnXLkzWqLdFIMo6Sos5ezdB4l-LUC_cWG9cxXTyzZLLscjlNaOrTQmjDUoe2tKZHFJyGRHX5v7MtXcll8kfFoPvMYmUnp5bVF_j_eQtNtayt-AJDe/s320/2012.SpartanSprint.MuddyFlat.jpg" width="320" /></a>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.<br />
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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!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKiBRzujAf7vR28ONlzTgjD4pxuAwzaXlxqJoxEp_bM6QSJ_iZxwOMiRWF5an5Lbxh9nxDYAWer4AD3QTawmiFvocKG4zaajft5KNxzkfyn8Gc6kz9lzZj25OJGAkx0F5ac4_TyUlgm7G/s1600/2012.Spartan.Sprint.Fire.Jump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKiBRzujAf7vR28ONlzTgjD4pxuAwzaXlxqJoxEp_bM6QSJ_iZxwOMiRWF5an5Lbxh9nxDYAWer4AD3QTawmiFvocKG4zaajft5KNxzkfyn8Gc6kz9lzZj25OJGAkx0F5ac4_TyUlgm7G/s320/2012.Spartan.Sprint.Fire.Jump.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Now bring us our free beer, our accolades, and our bitches. Bitches love Spartans!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Final standing for the Sunday Sprint - Total Racers = 3644</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71irfbwEEXW5zhB3Wc3XnTkfLvTMttJM9lLZvvnqKE6_f_h515KWNCxBXRRzUbrtHE5PSJpXWJoAbAkZtP1rqTe9JULuiMBpj8px1Fg1JeAicPjteZ1zPRn90A0A96hEHb9sDcYFkyt7B/s1600/SpartanPlace.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71irfbwEEXW5zhB3Wc3XnTkfLvTMttJM9lLZvvnqKE6_f_h515KWNCxBXRRzUbrtHE5PSJpXWJoAbAkZtP1rqTe9JULuiMBpj8px1Fg1JeAicPjteZ1zPRn90A0A96hEHb9sDcYFkyt7B/s1600/SpartanPlace.jpeg" /></a></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-25518636166361107192012-09-22T07:34:00.000-04:002012-09-30T09:26:07.820-04:00And Let the Wild Ruckus Start: Ruckus Boston 2012<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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 <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Neighbors</span></b> who came in full force to show their obstacling prowess, or <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Mid-Life Crisis</span></b> and <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Just Out of Diapers</span></b> 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 <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Likes It Dirty</span></b> (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!!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2UskVP020azdY62i-4ZU1_6uv59zcpQjEsHublvd1d2rsuK1zX859EK4reEy9FKK1rspaA8gt42H685zZTAhdUirsMG4kCftooVgGHTyuWvyJ1PfommIKv0XC091nD_1vjjQ4YfMCn5LJ/s1600/2012.Ruckus.RacingFamily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2UskVP020azdY62i-4ZU1_6uv59zcpQjEsHublvd1d2rsuK1zX859EK4reEy9FKK1rspaA8gt42H685zZTAhdUirsMG4kCftooVgGHTyuWvyJ1PfommIKv0XC091nD_1vjjQ4YfMCn5LJ/s400/2012.Ruckus.RacingFamily.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minus "Just Out of Diapers", who may have been taking this pic</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And now for the Ruckus...<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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. <br />
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So let's talk improvements, shall we?<br />
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1. <b>Rope Rings</b>: 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:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkC2B2dzTt4EN7InRiv7iZS6r55g_NIiBBtFOwKnGgBwy1XbDQ9j-JRPpVWLwgqAJfm1EvX5iIWNlZDUjY3evGiwERgjH6BfUZJf7T9PJZHwja1kNWVdEgG6yrGsV3ishA3yxdL-EVf-n/s1600/2012.Ruckus.Ropes1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkC2B2dzTt4EN7InRiv7iZS6r55g_NIiBBtFOwKnGgBwy1XbDQ9j-JRPpVWLwgqAJfm1EvX5iIWNlZDUjY3evGiwERgjH6BfUZJf7T9PJZHwja1kNWVdEgG6yrGsV3ishA3yxdL-EVf-n/s320/2012.Ruckus.Ropes1.jpeg" width="212" /></a></div>
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and this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhff1TjyNsEEdNW0_v-G9e3l05PY0Qx0F8RE6-KUzuH7qrXVfv1O2dCD6AxULjfUGhcM6D7SXLDw5LgFkSGYLzqGOO7aOLT0F-lV_7t51fWqFia_t_ZroBLG2NbbuPgP8Ni4z4oL5P4L3PL/s1600/2012.Ruckus.Ropes7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhff1TjyNsEEdNW0_v-G9e3l05PY0Qx0F8RE6-KUzuH7qrXVfv1O2dCD6AxULjfUGhcM6D7SXLDw5LgFkSGYLzqGOO7aOLT0F-lV_7t51fWqFia_t_ZroBLG2NbbuPgP8Ni4z4oL5P4L3PL/s320/2012.Ruckus.Ropes7.jpeg" width="212" /></a></div>
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and this: </div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtc0KpqOY8INT8yeJ5fzZMhi01TnTig6zdpEFdTn50TODXJNIwGVqI7F9YVN5B2OxOkA1jduWsMaZMpeVhzDmpg_a-E-khx17_tOkeYQP8hyzqWFTyEggBMhfl2fX2ndURiiHT_j-VH3KP/s1600/2012.Ruckus.Ropes6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtc0KpqOY8INT8yeJ5fzZMhi01TnTig6zdpEFdTn50TODXJNIwGVqI7F9YVN5B2OxOkA1jduWsMaZMpeVhzDmpg_a-E-khx17_tOkeYQP8hyzqWFTyEggBMhfl2fX2ndURiiHT_j-VH3KP/s320/2012.Ruckus.Ropes6.jpeg" width="209" /></a><br />
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and this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsp2EQCP2o8V2XmGDCI-rLC4wv2g8q1meqsTb7VRYoMchznSW2poft0jv3-OgJIgdKmLXSe8Xxn3UL89L6bDgLrBjqto5YG2WqU3Bl7UPIAEwtqb3RVQGn9bKOAbEH29txX_tcQAKSTQ1Y/s1600/2012.Ruckus.Ropes2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsp2EQCP2o8V2XmGDCI-rLC4wv2g8q1meqsTb7VRYoMchznSW2poft0jv3-OgJIgdKmLXSe8Xxn3UL89L6bDgLrBjqto5YG2WqU3Bl7UPIAEwtqb3RVQGn9bKOAbEH29txX_tcQAKSTQ1Y/s320/2012.Ruckus.Ropes2.jpeg" width="212" /></a></div>
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and this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4hqJrjq2nMN_6aL35BXFYWZeC30FMp7-Bssv6z1o-u9NvJxJJT7qKvg5S8paT4NS9dMG-xm2R9a0VC5PuHwGyJxSUmARrSR3s2Gey7To6j0QOtAwmX2seiWZxcs6-qDS6amQQSijzfDa/s1600/2012.Ruckus.Ropes3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4hqJrjq2nMN_6aL35BXFYWZeC30FMp7-Bssv6z1o-u9NvJxJJT7qKvg5S8paT4NS9dMG-xm2R9a0VC5PuHwGyJxSUmARrSR3s2Gey7To6j0QOtAwmX2seiWZxcs6-qDS6amQQSijzfDa/s320/2012.Ruckus.Ropes3.jpeg" width="212" /></a></div>
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2. <b>Course layout</b>: 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.<br />
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3. <b>Ruckus Tower</b>: 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!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjixrYrYIYnqN5WWQVhqMZ-8hyphenhyphennicfHWgzQ7mRWsXh3WobnRAMSZAJWvCjLvcFqoSMCozpt_PO6D5FxwRizRYhFp9mzTAIktLIFACL3YkXSRaNp9DU3cG9KsN5At9C2XTb-D9hPECD__Aa1/s1600/2012.Ruckus.Finish.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjixrYrYIYnqN5WWQVhqMZ-8hyphenhyphennicfHWgzQ7mRWsXh3WobnRAMSZAJWvCjLvcFqoSMCozpt_PO6D5FxwRizRYhFp9mzTAIktLIFACL3YkXSRaNp9DU3cG9KsN5At9C2XTb-D9hPECD__Aa1/s320/2012.Ruckus.Finish.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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4. <b>Me</b>: 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!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgzwO9X4RA-tfOBcqGWwKLFgjmNF7Y8cRtrmWdvEhjq_hfIq-kAMNSVsFnzxC3syUEhQX4HeVWF4MXt5olq_lASuScIrdX4I_VmHD5jOIIV0UZLfQ9L53z-zBLpF0D3lxZen90YdMLfTwe/s1600/2012.Ruckus.Running.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgzwO9X4RA-tfOBcqGWwKLFgjmNF7Y8cRtrmWdvEhjq_hfIq-kAMNSVsFnzxC3syUEhQX4HeVWF4MXt5olq_lASuScIrdX4I_VmHD5jOIIV0UZLfQ9L53z-zBLpF0D3lxZen90YdMLfTwe/s320/2012.Ruckus.Running.jpeg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's not to love?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Final Results</b>: (There was a lot of great competition out there but I managed to, once again, make it into the Champion's Heat.)<br />
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Overall Place<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Division<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Age Group Place<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Time<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Pace<br />
89 Ruckus Challenge<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>70<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> 39:48<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>9:57/M<br />
14 Ruckus Champion<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>12<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> 38:13.9<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>9:35/M<br />
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<i>Illustrious</i></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-42401435592134277252012-09-13T16:07:00.001-04:002012-09-13T16:07:52.925-04:00Tough Mudder VT (2012): Muddy, Bloody, Burnt, and Happy (Part 3)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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.<br />
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(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!)<br />
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Back to our harrowing tale of courage and fortitude and mud and wet undies! Or maybe just back to the obstacles.<br />
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(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.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JASr26wEubmylftw_iqEwJm0yRMUyYfmCcunWgWJ8-celqHLOKd2PN1l4s42H53yj5bWtGxqOJJ89FMn-Xt17fmp_P3HTg0Z64vxztvJpRXbyVBJOh2ieL7fb5xCSZDLXVpc63l64wzb/s1600/2012.Tough.Mudder.Walk.the.Plank.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JASr26wEubmylftw_iqEwJm0yRMUyYfmCcunWgWJ8-celqHLOKd2PN1l4s42H53yj5bWtGxqOJJ89FMn-Xt17fmp_P3HTg0Z64vxztvJpRXbyVBJOh2ieL7fb5xCSZDLXVpc63l64wzb/s320/2012.Tough.Mudder.Walk.the.Plank.JPG" width="320" /></a><b><u>Walk the Plank</u></b>: 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...<br />
<br />
<b><u>Underwater Tunnels</u></b>: 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.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSNJwSOx93EglO3MtwYlDJJ32VUWt2tRCsgmCPTvtv3n8sNXVlbUVZ-7DZezk7umtp1iTiVLI7TCEUWmtRprAJ3iUhpssawMcJnNkVWcARN29RQME5uQ-SsRNV37AzmZSwl1M0lpcCWnV_/s1600/2012.Glacier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSNJwSOx93EglO3MtwYlDJJ32VUWt2tRCsgmCPTvtv3n8sNXVlbUVZ-7DZezk7umtp1iTiVLI7TCEUWmtRprAJ3iUhpssawMcJnNkVWcARN29RQME5uQ-SsRNV37AzmZSwl1M0lpcCWnV_/s320/2012.Glacier.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glacier of ice, or something else?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><u>Glacier</u></b>: 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...<br />
<br />
<b><u>The Gauntlet</u></b>: 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!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1yQd8ds0AfwKzRKudIU0rD6wyUn4tnibE6_MtzJIXqjMLN6G-4KXe4VlJylEZfoM9yJCQkCtlP5SjbN6C13M6eT8NYKRW6JdsgPvYTsEywh4zs-lz2JMqEBWNY2WAYS-aZuHSAzcfGML/s1600/2012.Mudder.Fire.2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1yQd8ds0AfwKzRKudIU0rD6wyUn4tnibE6_MtzJIXqjMLN6G-4KXe4VlJylEZfoM9yJCQkCtlP5SjbN6C13M6eT8NYKRW6JdsgPvYTsEywh4zs-lz2JMqEBWNY2WAYS-aZuHSAzcfGML/s320/2012.Mudder.Fire.2.jpeg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just as good as in the movies</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><u>Berlin Walls #2</u></b>: 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?<br />
<br />
<b><u>Fire Walker</u></b>: 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."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5Y9TafKXG6Qs5YC_Mpl4245-2n23UxDyjsKqxoJXBIvp_LgGu2Cam2MXs5l2YpXtgNDGeRheThsK8-vxLYGBFegDiIaE_78Gvmz8acgPlZPuylkJXS2mEB19WXhRmGaphVDCYLMMTnlD/s1600/2012.Mudder.Fire.6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5Y9TafKXG6Qs5YC_Mpl4245-2n23UxDyjsKqxoJXBIvp_LgGu2Cam2MXs5l2YpXtgNDGeRheThsK8-vxLYGBFegDiIaE_78Gvmz8acgPlZPuylkJXS2mEB19WXhRmGaphVDCYLMMTnlD/s320/2012.Mudder.Fire.6.jpeg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never has a "On Fire" joke been more<br />
apropos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<b><u>Twinkle Toes</u></b>: 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.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Greased Lightning</u></b>: 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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2VBc2goN2dJDo0UTg0Hkt5ZanVO9vKS_dI23Fo9w0uTQf10kDs2UD2Pk1jgsfuQsY1zj5P5OsCfiY7q_4d22J3yTnPCCBtVuCy1yNROU0GqEDnpEPVj8tzkaQyiQ-ScCea8d_m228Mkkn/s1600/2012.Mudder.Fire.MarkandMe.Finish.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2VBc2goN2dJDo0UTg0Hkt5ZanVO9vKS_dI23Fo9w0uTQf10kDs2UD2Pk1jgsfuQsY1zj5P5OsCfiY7q_4d22J3yTnPCCBtVuCy1yNROU0GqEDnpEPVj8tzkaQyiQ-ScCea8d_m228Mkkn/s320/2012.Mudder.Fire.MarkandMe.Finish.jpeg" width="218" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing "shocking" about our muddy<br />
finish</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><u>Electroshock Therapy</u></b>: 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.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Finish</u></b>: 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. <br />
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------------------------<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqQDCT6uREe1RGnxS0QXhoOXsRHkAGKxhpN-1_XyfGqID_kHffQUIJwdUUs-hhyAl9I-vwePL3jOboD1TakXakOaWRk2QUNBma-FUQKde7fS28Wp8FYvnjadiv68JUAvkM8D606EGX88L/s1600/2012.MudderFamily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqQDCT6uREe1RGnxS0QXhoOXsRHkAGKxhpN-1_XyfGqID_kHffQUIJwdUUs-hhyAl9I-vwePL3jOboD1TakXakOaWRk2QUNBma-FUQKde7fS28Wp8FYvnjadiv68JUAvkM8D606EGX88L/s400/2012.MudderFamily.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Officially Unofficial Team</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A team hug was in order because nothing says a job well done like muddy hugs. Until next Mudder... stay Aggressive!<br />
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<i>Illustrious</i></div>
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-79587974069606442012012-08-10T22:44:00.003-04:002012-08-17T22:11:32.081-04:00Triathlons Are Dumb<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Can we all just agree right now that triathlons are dumb?<br />
<br />
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...."<br />
<br />
Ok, the spandex clothes are cool, but the rest? Ugh...<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
Dumb.<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
But, really? Dumb.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
They are dumb...<br />
<br />
... and I completely suck at them.<br />
<br /></div>
AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-45467638702338184132012-06-23T11:29:00.000-04:002012-09-07T22:41:54.286-04:00Tough Mudder Vt (2012): Muddy, Bloody, Burnt, and Happy (Part 2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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. <br />
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<b><u></u></b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Welcome to Part 2.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*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.</span></div>
<br />
<b><u>Devil's Beard</u></b>: 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.<br />
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<b><u>Funky Monkey</u></b>: 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. <br />
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<b><u>Kinky Tunnels</u></b>: 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?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHvwbuc6bs3GU1nyWLqT34RYva9DGq1nHDl3u_-KYzcwd639JCgYbI3jeAJfcF1kVyf3McK-yNJm3-fMdoomWhHYYv-5RQT-ce4plf3LpfMzwBJzyI0V34Tyd5zLbgyte4zfivpeJRyAP/s1600/2012.TM.Berlin1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHvwbuc6bs3GU1nyWLqT34RYva9DGq1nHDl3u_-KYzcwd639JCgYbI3jeAJfcF1kVyf3McK-yNJm3-fMdoomWhHYYv-5RQT-ce4plf3LpfMzwBJzyI0V34Tyd5zLbgyte4zfivpeJRyAP/s320/2012.TM.Berlin1.jpg" width="320" /></a><b><u>Berlins Walls #1</u></b>: 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.<br />
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<b><u>Boa Constrictor</u></b>: 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.<br />
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<b><u>Tired Yet?</u></b>: 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.<br />
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<b><u>Hay Bale Pyramid</u></b>: 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.<br />
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<b><u>Ball Shrinker</u></b>: 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. <br />
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<b><u>Mystery Obstacle #3</u></b>: 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?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJJV-2iZlyUtRsNST3vjnXfbyKhG24WzJZatNUDFU5fFUWa46ezliJO86jRizVxACw28MhNRgBp4jxSFktlXA9w5zPDppjj-Wnf69DXymIwk0P2TKdEO5Nvz3JpZCCaNBSkBYh0VOvEQ3/s1600/2012.TM.Cliffhanger2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJJV-2iZlyUtRsNST3vjnXfbyKhG24WzJZatNUDFU5fFUWa46ezliJO86jRizVxACw28MhNRgBp4jxSFktlXA9w5zPDppjj-Wnf69DXymIwk0P2TKdEO5Nvz3JpZCCaNBSkBYh0VOvEQ3/s320/2012.TM.Cliffhanger2.jpg" width="320" /></a><b><u>Cliff Hanger</u></b>: 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 <i>around </i>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 <i>your mama so fat</i> jokes... I don't have any <i>this hill is so steep</i> jokes. Wait, wait, this hill is so steep that if your mama fell down, she would be an avalanche.<br />
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<b><u>Everest</u></b>: 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.<br />
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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*.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*by soon I mean when I am done which could take upwards to forever depending on when I will sit down to write it</span><br />
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AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-12272066202659842942012-06-20T23:03:00.000-04:002012-09-07T22:42:39.011-04:00Tough Mudder VT (2012): Muddy, Bloody, Burnt, and Happy (Part 1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If you have been reading Age Aggressively (you may need professional help) you would know that I have a minor crush on Tough Mudder. Yes, minor. I don't want to take it to dinner and bring it home to meet the parents; however, I would not say no to some late night snuggling and over the shirt fumbling (I may need professional help).<br />
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After this year's Mudder at Mount Snow, Vermont, I may have to upgrade my minor crush to mildly stalker-obsessed. I don't want to say "love" because that comes with commitments and promises and emasculations. I prefer stalking.<br />
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Unlike last year when it took me far too long to write and post my Mudder eval, this time I will do it in three installments. It gives you, the reader, a chance to digest my informed and well-thought-out opinions on the race and the obstacles. It gives me, the blogger, more time to come up with words that sound like I am informed and that I have a clue.<br />
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Before we begin I must congratulate our <span style="font-family: inherit;">unofficial team (see my post "Welcome New Mudders"). Mid-Life Crisis, Only Dates Crazies Too, Whitey McWhiskey, Just Out of Diapers, Bunny Balladeer, Snake Your Drain, and Bunny Chaser came, saw, got really, really muddy, and then conquered like true Mudders! We were also fortunate to have two others join our little team: She Who Will Not Be Named, because, at the time of this writing I have, sadly, forgotten her name, and The Sthuper, who is spectacularly, splendidly, stupendously, super - but with a lisp.</span><br />
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So here we go. <b>Part 1</b>.</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*The following obstacles are not in order. This is how they placed it on the website but it has become plainly clear that TMHQ lies. A lot. I really have no idea what the line up was, but I know the map on the website does not match up with what I ran. At least I don't think it did but I have the retention span of a goldfish. Maybe it did, but I think they lie. Rule number one in racing: It's someone else's fault.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9BnIwK_Xb002IGEvl222PoHXNyqdDOQFBQXKOfIoH2sr3sp7aeuAb-iwahi7oNuwk9DgBxGx9rV1sFltd1Vdn6B4UirEpITCZsl96ucaI7VCxqEck9aqD6Dw4jHjzd52aRVnYoHfHDKxG/s1600/2012.Mudder.Starting.Line.Wall.2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9BnIwK_Xb002IGEvl222PoHXNyqdDOQFBQXKOfIoH2sr3sp7aeuAb-iwahi7oNuwk9DgBxGx9rV1sFltd1Vdn6B4UirEpITCZsl96ucaI7VCxqEck9aqD6Dw4jHjzd52aRVnYoHfHDKxG/s320/2012.Mudder.Starting.Line.Wall.2.jpeg" width="320" /></a><b style="background-color: white;"><u>Starting Line</u></b><span style="background-color: white;">: This is where we started the race. Unlike last year, though, we had to scale an 8 foot wall to get to the starting line. Kudos, TM, for placing that there. It was a gentle heads-up that we will face many obstacles, this only being the first, and if you can't get to the starting line, what hope will you have </span><span style="background-color: white;">getting to the finish line. Or they put it there to hold back the amount of mud waiting for us on the other side. Part of me wants to go with the inspirational reason for the wall, the other wants to go with the mud; let's settle on inspirationally* dirty, and if you've never been inspired by dirty, you've been dating all the wrong people. I digress. The starting line. There we were, grouped together with 200 other Mudders, listening to the rousing speech given by the TM Orator. He spoke of honor, of discipline, of fears, and of hope. He called upon us to call upon ourselves and our fellow Mudders, to lend a hand or a shoulder, to aid when necessary, even if it's only words of encouragement. Then he had us throw mud. First mystery obstacle, the Torn Retina, no?.... maybe Here's Mud in Your Eyes? Whatever, I have dirt in my eyes and that sucks. Damn you inspirational speaker! The horn sounds and we are off. Let the adventure begin as we frantically, quickly, fervently... walk up a steep climb.</span><br />
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<b><u>Braveheart Charge</u></b>: TM changed the Charge this year and I would be remiss (and lying) if I didn't feel somewhat responsible. If you read my blog on last year's Mudder, you would know that they had us run wildly down a short slippery slope before greeting the next obstacle. A mad dash of 200+ Mudders down a short, muddy hillside is inherently dangerous (and higly encouraged) as they bumped and jostled each other, or slipped and were accidentally trampled by their new-found friends. Thankfully TMHQ rectified this hazardous situation by starting the charge uphill. It was safe. It was sound. It was steep; but, there were no mad dashes or frantic, unstable sprints pitting you against your gravity-enhanced friends careening uncontrollably down an uneven hill... well, at least not immediately. Apparently, running madly down a short, slippery hill did not offer the kind of danger the Mudder God's wanted in their race, so they gave us a long climb up only to have us turn a corner and run madly down a long, slippery slope. Nothing says "Welcome back" like increased peril.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only Dates Crazies, Too loves his enema!</td></tr>
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<b><u>Arctic Enema</u></b>: Last year it was called the Blood Bath. I still call it lots of swears. By any other name it would still be freakin' cold. Let me explain: The Enema is a 4 feet deep by 8 feet wide dumpster in which they have liberally filled with ice and water... less emphasis on the water, more on the ice. To make matters laughably worse, there's a submerged wall in the middle; a wall that can only be passed by plunging into the ice bath and ducking under the wall. Good points: TMHQ put this at the beginning of the race, unlike last year, which helped us stay cool in the long climb ahead. Bad points: I had ice cubes everywhere... everywhere... and was busy clearing them out of my underwear. They should call this one The Bad Date or maybe just Blue Balls.<br />
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<b><u>Death March</u></b>: Fully expected, being on a mountain. The name says it all. Back up the mountain we went. Far less running during the March, much more, um... marching. There is nothing new to report. The March may have been longer than last year. I think they used a different trail than last year. The trees looked different and that rock wasn't there before and the mud felt more like clay and the sun was more sunny and all these people.. who are all these people? They weren't here last year. Must be a new trail.<br />
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<b><u>Kiss of Mud</u></b>: Yes, we did this last year. Uphill. In the muck and the mud. Under barbed wire. Staring at the soles of those who passed before us (see what I did? I made it sound ominous... like we are total bad ass.. yeah, bad ass). I think they added more rocks to the mud this year. I don't remember grinding my bits and pieces against rocks last year. There's a joke in here somewhere about rocks and a hard place, and you might think I was referring to my bits and pieces, but that would be wildly inappropriate and completely correct.<br />
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<b style="background-color: white;"><u>Mud Mile</u></b><span style="background-color: white;">: I don't get it. They had this last year, too, but I still don't get it. The course is 10+ miles long. It's muddy everywhere. All 10 miles. Did we go through sections that were muddier than others? Sure. Were those the Mud Mile? Dunno. Maybe the mud was different in this mile. Maybe they imported fine mud from the Venetian Isles. Maybe I made that place up. This just seems redundant. It's muddy.</span><br />
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<b><u>Spiders Web</u></b>: I think that next year they need multiple Webs. I appreciate the Web. It brings together Team Everyone. We all join in to help secure it, assuring a stable climb up and over the cargo net. I like that. Go Team Everyone! Whoo! There should be more than one, maybe several... with giants spiders.. and I could use my +5 clamor against Giant Spiders while wearing both my +3 greaves against Poisonous Monsters and my Boots of Freedom, which negates things like spider's webs and any chance I will ever get laid.<br />
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<b><u>Log Jammin'</u></b>: I think this was the log creation that TMHQ built near the end of the course. They had contructed a log frame in which they had placed logs running perpendicular across the frame, in random places, at different heights. To complete this obstacle we had to crawl under, between, and over the logs. On the challenge scale, I give it a thumb half up. My kids do this kind of activity at the playground. On the coolness scale, I give this a complete thumbs up, because we all want to be kids on the playground and Mudder is an adult's playground (well, actually that's anywhere there are poles and dancing and laps, which I always give two thumbs up).<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcA8aLWWoLfuUvNyJxuTxC6VZct9mgfQgGsMsgYxTWCPvT3hegpbyRLbvX1ynhcwyMKT8s-tf0psd1Tc1Vk5C2rv1REQVe6FeyzfoL0q0VLKMTjlrtAJjCndBBfuitp2PFRBWVSMn6CJik/s1600/2012.Tough.Mudder.Electric.Eel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcA8aLWWoLfuUvNyJxuTxC6VZct9mgfQgGsMsgYxTWCPvT3hegpbyRLbvX1ynhcwyMKT8s-tf0psd1Tc1Vk5C2rv1REQVe6FeyzfoL0q0VLKMTjlrtAJjCndBBfuitp2PFRBWVSMn6CJik/s320/2012.Tough.Mudder.Electric.Eel.JPG" width="320" /></a><b><u>Mystery #1 (Electric Eel)</u></b>: I tend to swear from time to time but usually under my breath so as to not offend those more sensitive than I. I try (repeat: try) not to swear in front of children. With that said, the kids watching this obstacle may have learned some colorful idioms that day. TMHQ combined the joys of Kiss the Mud belly crawling with Electroshock Therapy, and it was through inch-deep muddy water. There we were, slithering under barbed wire, staring at the potentially charged electric wires hanging down in front of us when "F**K!" I was zapped in the right shoulder. The monologue continued thusly, "f**king hurt f**king shoulder f**k f**k stupid f**king people in my f**king way move dammit move F**K!!" I was zapped again in my right shoulder. The phrase "f**ckity f**k" was brought to all the kids watching the obstacle by the letter F.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Hold Your Wood</u></b>: Second year carrying wood. Second year watching someone get hurt carrying wood. From the way people were performing this challenge I was lead to believe that, maybe, they learned from last year that it does not pay to rush this obstacle, what with the steep slopes and slippery terrain. Most people approached this carefully. Most, but there's always one guy... who tries to run down the slope with a big log on his shoulder... who invariably falls and, thankfully, only hurts himself. Is this obstacle prone to injuries? No. Are dumbasses prone to injuries? Apparently. Am I unsympathetic to stupidity? Definitely.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Mystery #2</u></b>: The problem with not paying attention is that I don't pay attention. I don't remember this mystery. Was someone building it? Did it involve a science theatre? How many more "mystery" related items can I bring into this discussion? Really, I don't remember this mystery. You know what that makes it? A mystery. Bet Mudder would have got away with it, too, if it weren't for those meddling kids.<br />
<br />
........<br />
<br />
And there you have it. The first installment of the 2012 Tough Mudder Adventure at Mount Snow, Vermont. Hope you enjoyed it! I know what you're thinking, Aggressives: "But Illustrious, when will we have the other two installments? We can't eat. We can't sleep. We've even stopped all self-gratification. Help us." I hear your pleas. You must be patient, my Aggressives. The next installment will be released soon, after it goes through a very rigid review process to ensure that: 1. everything is factual accurate; 2. anything potentially factual is a crazy coincidence with what goes on in my head, and; 3. I have actually started writing it. Which I have. With facts and stuff. Trust me.<br />
<br /></div>
AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-72171133169687881852012-06-09T07:15:00.000-04:002012-06-09T07:15:16.698-04:00Dammit! I'm a Runner: 2012 Groton Road Race 10K<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Crap.<br />
<br />
I'm a runner.<br />
<br />
Double crap.<br />
<br />
I never wanted to be one, but I think I am.<br />
<br />
I started this racing-one-a-month thing to stay in shape but I insisted to myself and everyone else that I would not become a runner. Runners are psychotic. Runners fawn over things like new sneakers and mile averages and pace times and PRs and splits and running.<br />
<br />
I hate running. It's arduous and time-consuming and it keeps me away from more important things like criticizing runners.<br />
<br />
How did I come to this epiphany, you ask? It was at the 2012 Groton Road Race.<br />
<br />
It's a great event and very well organized. Groton is a beautiful town to have a race and the event coordinators have created a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. They have everything you want in a race. Plenty of food and drink. People of all ages and skill levels. Superb start and finish lines. Pace clocks at every(?) mile. Announcers who give the fans a run-down of runners coming in for the finish line. Vendors. A live band. To make it even better, they close all the roads during the race so no cars can interfere. It's just for the runners.<br />
<br />
My annual Tough Mudder adventure in Vermont was a week away and I didn't want to overdo any training that might affect my performance. I decided to use the Groton Road Race as a nice, casual 10K jog to keep my legs loose. I usually run with one or more friends and we have our own friendly competition when together. This race I was running solo. This meant no competitiveness, no worrying about pace or PRs or time. This was all about enjoying the scenery and the beautiful day.<br />
<br />
The motto of the race was to be "Take It Easy," and easy I shall.<br />
<br />
At the starting line I chatted with a few of the other runners who couldn't help noticing my calm, easy- going demeanor. Or my Captain America mask and undies. The starting gun fired and we were off. Time to enjoy the relaxed pace.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTnKjsgQ9ZYKj9iU-muLnW3vKP1irrBcskIQGX3onnnPKC_ETAavnPm6L1AyAzJ-Wk2iEx9roP2Xz3qtyKV34bKxMACXalvOZ_xjrt0f_HnwaK_fSnM72cAEZ_bs9vQFJ3hqRZ3Jop9DsG/s1600/2012.GrotonRoadRace.1stmile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTnKjsgQ9ZYKj9iU-muLnW3vKP1irrBcskIQGX3onnnPKC_ETAavnPm6L1AyAzJ-Wk2iEx9roP2Xz3qtyKV34bKxMACXalvOZ_xjrt0f_HnwaK_fSnM72cAEZ_bs9vQFJ3hqRZ3Jop9DsG/s400/2012.GrotonRoadRace.1stmile.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heroically heading to the 1st mile</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Hey, I'm already at the first mile. Sweet. Let's check the pace clock and... 6:40! Whoa, time to slow it down a bit. What are you doing? Look around and enjoy the scenery. Slow it down. Take it easy, remember?<br />
<br />
I love the rolling hills of Groton with its cow pastures and farm land. Second mile water stop is packed with volunteers! They're cheering on the competitors! They're cheering on the Captain! They're applauding! The love me! Wait, they're laughing! They love my undies! You have to respect people who respect the undies. Pace clock coming up... 13:something... Didn't I tell you to slow it down?! This is not a race. Today is suppose to be about communing with nature or something like that. Slow it down.<br />
<br />
I thought I was. Slowing it down. I wasn't. Apparently, I couldn't. Every mile clock told me as much.<br />
<br />
For the entirety of the 10K I convinced myself I was taking it easy, that I was running slower than I could have. I honestly felt this way over the 6.2 mile course. Yes, I still sprinted the last 330 meters to the finish line, but it's on a school track and that's what you do on a track. You sprint. Plus, if you're wearing a Captain America mask you have to represent.... your sheer awesomeness or lack of shame, I forget which.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvA69TNN22b6NkZE38H1FtN6CU1dFjbOqRaXTzSFJvGj6hvM6t8vi3B7F1Fg3VdfRQm1WmJwSmfB727CpwBgU8bRE6AfgvaJZvk2jb7Xx3d-EzPQNWdQX7U4S7THTaJy35gVJ7eSnaXUv_/s1600/2012.GrotonRoadRace.Finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvA69TNN22b6NkZE38H1FtN6CU1dFjbOqRaXTzSFJvGj6hvM6t8vi3B7F1Fg3VdfRQm1WmJwSmfB727CpwBgU8bRE6AfgvaJZvk2jb7Xx3d-EzPQNWdQX7U4S7THTaJy35gVJ7eSnaXUv_/s400/2012.GrotonRoadRace.Finish.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Representing the undies</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Final time - 43:14. Pace - 6:58. </div>
<br />
Did I do better than last year? Yup. Did I try harder last year? Yup. Did I drop 30 seconds from last year's pace? Yup.<br />
<br />
<pre style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, mono; font-size: 12px;">Year - Pl Name Time Pace Gender Pl Age Group Pl </pre>
<pre style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, mono; font-size: 12px;">2012 - 45 Todd Spencer 43:14 6:58 43/254 9/52</pre>
<pre style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, mono; font-size: 12px;"><pre style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, mono;">2011 - 84 Todd Spencer 46:28 7:29 72/284 21/67</pre>
</pre>
Did I become something I swore up and down I would not become? Regrettably, undeniably, psychotically, most definitely, yes.<br />
<br />
Now who wants to talk about the latest minimalist trail sneakers while running negative splits over a ten mile course which I usually hold a 7:20 average<span style="font-size: x-small;"> pace but I think we're ready to set a new personal record because I read an article that says if we keep pace to songs w</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">ith a certain BPM, that's beat's per minute, we can create a rhythm which will decrease our overall pace time.....</span><br />
<br /></div>AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-22830976509542553002012-06-07T09:51:00.001-04:002012-06-07T09:51:24.593-04:00Aggressively Lazy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear fellow Aggressives,<br />
<br />
I would like to sincerely apologize for my lack of posts lately. I could make excuses, I really could. In fact, here are a few I wanted to use:<br />
<br />
1) "I have been so very busy aggressively winning all my races that I haven't had a chance to write down all the aggressive awesomeness..."<br />
<br />
but you would know that I was lying partly because I have a penchant for hyperbole but mostly because I don't win and if I did you would definitely hear about it.<br />
<br />
2) "I recently found out I am pregnant..."<br />
<br />
but, yeah.... no uterus...<br />
<br />
3) "A secret government agency put together a new task force and needed me to join them in their defense of the planet against the dark forces of Loki..."<br />
<br />
but, that team already has a Captain and the Black Widow has a restraining order against me.<br />
<br />
4) "I stopped all running, cycling, swimming, and obstacling and, therefore, blogging, to start my new hobby: Aggressively Napping..."<br />
<br />
and this is the only one you may have believed.<br />
<br />
Truth is, I've been lazy. Lazy training. Lazy blogging. Lazy lazy-ing. Maybe it's the season or the weather. Whatever it is, I don't like it. So here's the deal. I will start writing again if you promise to be patient with me, be gentle, and not too critical. I'm sensitive. <br />
<br />
I may be on my period.<br />
<br />
(coming sooner than you think... my first installment of the 2012 Mount Snow Tough Mudder review... seriously, it's coming soon!)</div>AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-483958471287196552.post-90834440250352184722012-04-30T19:59:00.002-04:002012-04-30T19:59:47.556-04:00Welcome, New Mudders!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
We are a week away from the 2012 Mount Snow, Vermont Tough Mudder challenge. Yes, challenge, because it's not a race. Races have winners and places and PRs and pace clocks and egos. Challenges have you and your ability to overcome them, or not, depending on who you are and what you are trying to accomplish.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This is my second year running / climbing / swimming / crawling / freezing / burning the VT Tough Mudder. I have no pre-mudder jitters because I kind of know what's in store for us Mudders. "Kind of" because they changed the course layout, added some new obstacles, and have three mystery obstacles. We can only prepare for what we know and I have found that what we know ain't much.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My brother, <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Mid-Life Crisis</span></b>, and my good friend, <b><span style="color: #38761d;">Only Dates Crazies Too</span></b>, will, of course, be joining me again this year. They would not miss another year of Mudder Madness. We are fortunate this year to have several others join our unofficial team! Brief introductions for our new Mudders are in order:</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b><span style="color: #38761d;">Whitey McWhiskey</span></b>: You may remember Whitey from last year's MetroDash. Well, he is back, after a brief hiatus, and will be plowing his way through this year's Mudder. Short of stature but not short on charm, Whitey is always a great addition to our growing team. Welcome back, Whitey!</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b><span style="color: #38761d;">Just Out of Diapers</span></b>: This youngling is new to our group, brought in by Mid-Life Crisis. I can only assume that she is with him as some sort of community service. Maybe she volunteered to help the elderly to get her Girl Scout merit badge. I don't know. Either way, she has gone above and beyond in aiding our geriatric team member fulfill his given race name.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b><span style="color: #38761d;">The Bunny Balladeer</span></b>: Bunny is an old friend from high school who has recently taken up running in order to find new ways to sing. Yes, to sing. She is always singing. Always. We did chorus together so, yes, she sang there; but she sings everywhere... apparently even while running. Thankfully she has a great set of lungs (wink wink nudge nudge) to carry those tunes :)</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b><span style="color: #38761d;">Snake Your Drain</span></b>: New to obstacle racing but not new to physical challenges, Snake Your Drain is primed for this year's Mudder event. He is strong and determined, which has helped him overcome past hurdles. I do not expect that this new endeavor will have him blow a gasket or pop an O-ring and, as long as he stays focused and calm, he will not hit a stop valve which would hinder his flow rate. Ballcock.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b><span style="color: #38761d;">Bunny Chaser</span></b>: B.C. is also new to obstacle course racing but has hit the season in full stride. She has signed up, along with Bunny Balladeer, for some of the longest and toughest obstacle courses in the region! Impressive for a noob. She and Balladeer try to join the same events so one can sing in new arenas and the other can chase her the entire race, hence the name. With her successful pre-season races under her belt, this might be the time when the Chaser because the Chased.</li>
</ul>
<div>
There you have it. Our team is officially unofficial. There may be more people jumping into our ragtag group and they will be welcome. If they're lucky I will give them nicknames.<br />
<br />
Good luck to my friends and anyone else getting ready for the 2012 Vermont Tough Mudder. Revel in the mud. Embrace the cold. Rejoice in the camaraderie. Swear at the Berlin Walls (you'll see). Above all else, enjoy the Mudder, my friends. Enjoy it Aggressively!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Aggressively yours,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Illustrious</div>
</div>
</div>AgeAggressively!http://www.blogger.com/profile/05435005669418189929noreply@blogger.com0