The run started out with an 8th of a mile sprint to stacked monster truck tires that had to be scaled. Next we sprinted a little further to climb some steep hills. After the hills we ran through our first little spot of mud. *confession, I’m a bit of a pretty boy, I don’t play in the dirt, and I’m sure as heck not playing in the mud. I tippy toed my way through the mud trying my best to stay clean and dry. Mission accomplished, made it through with very minimal mud. Next was a bit of a trail run through the woods. At this point I’m thinking, this is so easy, the ground is giving me a less impact of a run then when I run on the road, there isn’t much mud, and the obstacles are fun! While in these woods my mind started to change.
While frolicking through some, what I’ll call small puddles now, in the woods I started to see why this was called a mud run. Again, I’m a pretty boy so running through these “puddles” was a big deal for me. I’ll say there was about 6 inches of water and about 2 inches of mud in these puddles that ranged from 5 feet long to some around 30 feet long. Again, I’m happy, smiling, having a great time. Look at me, I’m in the mud, I’m a MAN!
I bust out of the woods and back into an open field. Staring dead in front of me is a steep wall, about 20 or 25 feet tall that is made up of huge boulders. Things are fun again! I like climbing, I don’t like getting dirty. I scale this wall with little effort. What’s on the other side of wall is when things start to get interesting. To get back down off this “mountain” I had to jump down a series of “stairs” that were each about 4 foot tall. The bottom of each “stair” was nothing but mud. Splish, splash, Cas almost fell on his a… Yeah, so I somehow manage to stay pretty clean at this point, just some mud on my shoes and ankles. Ladies and gentlemen, this was about to change. Dead ahead of me was the soupiest, most foul smelling slop of mud I could ever have a nightmare about (to this point anyway, this will later be just a walk in the park). This mud is so thick, the only way to make it through is to get on your belly and military crawl your way through. The slop is about a foot thick, and feels like it has a thousand little hands pulling you down into the core of the earth. With these tiny hands are a team of trolls trying to pull your shoes off. In this mud pit I learned a life lesson, “when crawling through the mud behind someone, ALWAYS keep your mouth closed.” A huge clump of this muck flew right off the shoe of the guy in front of me and straight down my throat. At this point I almost coughed the mud back out, along with my breakfast. *side note, I didn’t throw up during this race, but there were several others who felt the mud wasn’t nasty enough, so they added their breakfast to the mix.
Thankfully, right after this mud pit there was a water station! I can wash my mouth out and keep on running. I don’t know who the sick people are that organized this thing, but the water station was nothing more than a table with empty cups on it with cute girls standing behind it. Not cool guys, not cool at all. Let’s keep pressing on shall we? After this mud pit things get back to being a little easier, some hills, small mud puddles, which at this point I’ve given up on my pretty boy status and I’m just plowing right through.
They steer us back into the woods for some more of a trail run. I like the trail runs. This trail had a 3 foot deep creek in it, which surprising was a blessing because it washed the heavy mud off of me and slightly refreshed me. Back out of the woods I burst feeling revived and ready to finish this race strong. One more mile to go, I can do this!
And then… Let there be MUD. Sweet Mary daughter of Mildred, this last mile is nothing but some of the most foul, thick, sloppy muck of mud I’ve ever seen. I start out trying to run and not fall through only six inches of mud for about 50 yards. Next we run over some grass and around a blind corner that they deviously have hidden a slop fest behind. I turn this corner and what I see before me is what my old worst nightmares would be made of. Two marines yelling at me to get down on my belly and craw in this foot thick patch of mud under this grid of strings, keep your butt down or Charlie’s going to shoot it off. Now I’m thoroughly soaked and covered in as much mud as I think my body can hold, but BOY was I wrong, my body could hold much more mud as it was about to prove.
More small obstacles out of the way and I can see the finish line. There at the top of that hill I see the gallery, people cheering, a water table where people are getting cups that are filled with water, all I have to do is climb this hill and prance my pretty boy self over the finish line. Oh how it seems so easy. Remember the thick mud filled with the thousand little hands and trolls? Well those were apparently the mud babies. This mud is where the strong adults live. I take off trying to climb this hill and as I’m only a quarter of the way up the thousands of hands have grabbed me and they’re much stronger than I am. The much stronger trolls are able to easily slip my shoes off my feet and drag them down deep into their mud layer. Fighting with all my strength I’m able to reclaim my left shoe and get it partially back on my foot, the right shoe was recovered shortly thereafter. Now, all I have to do is gather the strength to break the grasp of these thousand hands pulling me down. It’s impossible to move my legs, I fear that I’m stuck and that I will die here on this muddy hill with the finish line and a cool cup of water painfully close. Then like the voice of God booming down from heaven I hear “Get down and crawl it’s much easier” Heeding the advice I fall face first into the mud and start to pull with my arms as I push with my legs. I’m moving, I feel the hands releasing me from their grasp, I’m going to make it, they won’t take me down and put me in some sort of mud POW camp. As I top the hill to a point where I’m able to once again stand, I see 100 yards of hell between me and the finish line. My spirit is broken, I stand and look disheartened at the final 100 yards as it starts to expand to 100 miles away. Through my fog I hear the cheering of all my fans yelling for me to finish. Slowly I put one 10 pound mud covered foot in front of the other and make my push for the finish line. VICTORY! I finished my mud run, 3.2 miles of pure fun and abuse.
And you want to know what's the worst part of a mud, other than completely ruining your clothes? Having to get on your father in laws roof the next day to fix his ridge cap. Climbing the roof and putting my fresh cuts down on those hot shingles really lets you know how much damage you just did to your body.
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