Authors note: The following post contains mature language. Please read at your discretion.
I’m alive
So my last wattblog stated that it could be my last posting. That I could perish because I signed up for Mud Hero… as you can see, I haven’t actually died, however, at this point (day after) I’m not so sure death isn’t a far more merciful option.
I said I would do a blog about it when I finished and I needed to write it all down before my mind blocked the actual trauma so without further ado… here’s how it went.
Our team. Names have been changed for the purpose of this posting, so hopefully the pseudonym’s are self explanatory:
Me
C – Gretzky
T – Strongman
S – Super Woman
***THAT DAY ***
I wake up. My ankle feels the opposite of good. No idea why this keeps happening to me lately, but the Achilles tendon aches a lot and is slightly swollen. I apparently sustained this injury whilst doing nothing. That’s right up there with the time I fractured my metacarpal bone in three spots by golfing… both of these things take immense talent that yours truly seems to possess.
Gretzky picks me up for a 1.5 hr. drive to mud hero. This awards me with an extra 1.5 hours to woefully regret my life’s choices….
The people at the registration table hand out a t-shirt, your individual racing number with safety pins and a timing chip to attach to your shoe (this crafty little dodad doubles as a beer voucher for when you’re finished racing). They all have smiles on their faces—almost diabolical if you ask me, they know the perils that lie ahead.
I take my t-shirt and my stuff and pin my number on my shirt. I cannot figure out how to attach a timing chip—one may conclude this is my first rodeo, so with a little help, I have a cool little circle on my shoe.
I’m starting to feel like a real athlete. No. Not Really. Not at all.
Superwoman, Strongman, Gretzky and I stand around and bake in the heat of the sun for a while. There are people in tutus, people with flotation devices and goggles, people in things that they should not be wearing.
As we tan/people watch, I see that there are those in far worse shape than I. Some of them are clean (as in have not yet raced) and some are filthy. For a second I have confidence: If they can do it, surely I can.
Strongman and Gretzky are stretching.
Let’s be real.
Stretching will not help me.
We have to line up for the race at the 6-minute countdown. Oh joy! I’m so freakin’ excited I can hardly contain myself! Their playing LMFAO and Britney Spears. Also diabolical.
We count down.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6. 5, 4, 3, 2,1.
Not one person runs at first. It’s a causal walk through the starting line and I think, hey, I can do this. I can handle walking.
Then everyone starts a little jog. I can also do that. It’s not too bad.
So we jog for a bit until we get to obstacle one.
Demolition Derby. You have to run up and over cars. I’m petrified at first that I won’t even get on the car without crawling like a small child on account of my near-midget status but alas, to my utter delight there is an “easy option” I take that route, which provides a step to hoist myself up.
The next obstacle is called the Bobsled Run. Don’t let the name fool you. Bobsledding in mud would be a blast. It is merely a disguise for “The Descent into Hell.” What the bobsled run actually is, is a long (as in never-ending) path straight downhill into the depths of the canyon down natural berms. I walk like I’ve got some sort of impediment because it’s all I can do not to roll down the hill in a mass of surrender.
Strongman runs down like he does this on the daily, same with Superwoman whilst Gretzky is stuck waiting for my sorry self. We make it down hill, only to get to the Hero Walls.
This is fun!
Even the shortest wall is too tall for me and since I cannot lift my foot to my head, I cannot get onto the small step to hoist myself up and over. Gretzsky gives me a boost. I bet he’s having the time of his life! I bet he woke up that morning and thought to himself, “wow, I simply cannot wait to boost L up and over Hero Walls.”
Same thing happens for the second wall. I’m fine jumping over. I just can’t get up. The third wall is tricky. It’s backwards, so there is no step at all. Holy fuck! It took someone real creative to think that shit up. I now can’t get up and over without the step, so Gretzky lifts me up and Strongman pulls me over both at the same time. I don’t feel quite as bad on wall three, because Superwoman needs help for this one too, and Gretzky in fact ends up sacrificing time to help boost several people up and over the third wall.
Once that debacle finishes, we go to the cargo crawl. This is crawling in mud on your hands and knees through a mud pit. That one was actually not too bad; at least I did it without assistance.
The next obstacle is hero slides. It’s gigantic, inflatable slides (like a kids bounce house). I climb this thing like I’ve been doing it all my life and slide down. Maybe I will be a mud hero vs. mud zero after all. We are two for two.
Then come over and unders. Pretty self-explanatory, up and over a barrier, followed by a crawl on your belly and under. BOOM. I do that like a champ. I’ve now earned that beer on my shoe chip!
And I’m three for three! Hells yes!
But then it happened. The beginning of the end. The “Mud Slides.” Climb a ladder to the top of four watersides, all aimed at a pit of muddy, slurpy water.
Superwoman: “How deep is this?”
Mud Hero Guy: “Meh, about 3.5 – 4 feet. Put your feet out when you hit the bottom and you’ll be fine.”
We sit in the slides. Its like icicles shooting little pinpricks into ones skin. We all launch at the same time. I slide down the freezing water and right before I hit the mud, I do as the man said and put my feet out.
I want to know what planet this guy lives on that is 4 feet.
Unless I shrunk more than 12 inches overnight, the pit is most definitely over five feet.
I’m living (barely) proof.
Down I go.
Completely submerged into the murky water below. This may actually be a secret vortex into hell.
It’s fucking vile.
There is sludgy water in my ears, in my eyes, up my nose and in my mouth. Gretzsky and Strongman and Superwoman are busting a gut laughing at me.
Hardy har. But I can’t say I blame them. I bet I look like a total gem. A diamond in the rough.
Next is crawdaddy creek, or, alternately, a gigantic pit of slippery mud you have to walk your waterlogged self through. I’ve gained five pounds at least in mud and water and it’s more like going down a slip and slide on your feet. I can’t be sure, but I think I held Strongman’s arm.
There was a lot of arm/hand holding on Saturday. Never have I felt closer to my coworkers but I digress…
Then Frog Spa. Where you once again get to submerge yourself into mud (my feet touched the bottom this time) and duck underneath logs. I manage. It’s like they give you a slight glimmer of hope before the next obstacle rips it away from you.
I can’t honestly tell you that I remember which order we completed which task in but somewhere along the run we did a tadpole trek which was essentially half a kilometer of practically foot high mud that was hungry for shoes. I have terrible balance. So happens Gretzky does not suffer from the same impairment. I hold Gretzky’s hand the entire time whilst I flail about like Bambi on ice.
We went through spider webs of rope at some point, followed by balance beams and a climb up and wall and down a fire pole. I manage all of these just fine.
Then in true Mud Hero fashion, my little flicker of success was overshadowed by another obstacle. The best way I can describe what happened next is purgatory.
In fact, I’m pretty sure if I sin and do not life a good life treating those around me with kindness and respect, this is the fate that awaits me. A fiery inferno of agony in the form of a hill.
I would do every other obstacle ten times if it had meant I didn’t have to climb that hill. It’s a ski hill. It’s big enough to get a ride down on skis. Steep enough too. The god damned thing went on forever. For-ev-er.
Strongman hasn’t even broken a sweat. He’s barely dirty. Superwoman says it’s hurting her legs. Gretzky seems on par with strongman. Me? I can’t breathe. I sound like an asthma kid with no puffer. It’s awful. I cannot breathe and every time I look up, there is more hill to conquer.
We start calling it Mofo Mountain.
I’m sure that at least 20 minutes of our race time was spent waiting for me to climb that thing.
Finally we reach the top and Superwoman high-fives me. I still can’t breathe and she can, at least enough to say: “We did it! At least there will be no more hills.”
Praise Jesus! No more hills!!!
We continue on through mud in the form of quicksand which once again tries to steal peoples shoes and then we round a corner.
There’s another hill. It’s about a third of the size of the first one but it’s steeper. And it is composed entirely of mud. There is water running down the foot imprints currently in the mud.
FML. Really? Really?
To my surprise, due purely to the distribution of the foot steps, this one is easier to climb with the exception that the chick in front of me keeps losing her shoes. For the love of God, just take them off!
At the top, we take on a cargo net up one side and down the other. Since I’m not a complete invalid, I was able to do that. My legs however are on fire at this point and every step is anguish.
Then new for 2014, is the Kong! I love new things! The Kong is what happened when the cargo net and the hero walls have a baby. The only difference is, there is no short people option, the wall is large, and there is a mud covered rope to hang onto whilst you climb.
I surprise myself by getting up one side of the wall and across the cargo net relatively easy (by comparison to most everything else). But then I wait for a mud-covered girl in a veil who simply does not want to go back down.
I wait.
I wait.
I wait.
Gretzky offers to help her and she snarls like a bridezilla.
I wait.
Finally a paramedic helps her down and it’s my turn.
Going down would have been okay if not for these things. 1. The grooves in which you place your feet are caked in mud, so I get about 1/3 of my toe for grip. 2. The wall itself is also covered in watery mud, so you slip and slide. 3. The rope is so slick, it just goes through your hands. Regardless, I make it but with less stealth than the way up.
It starts to get foggy at this point. I know we crawled through tunnels, navigated through ‘woods’ i.e.: a few trees, which was followed by one more submergence into mud-filled, wood-chippy like waters, under a few cargo nets.
Behold, I can see the finish line!
I’ve made it! I have not died!
Gretzky is grinning, saying what a great time it was. Strongman is too, still unsweaty, with all of his breath and the top part of his shirt is relatively clean, Superwoman is pumped like she could go back to the start and do it again.
I am dying.
Go me!
We cross the finish line holding hands and are awarded with a medal that doubles as a beer opener. They want you to drink to forget what you’ve just been through.
*** UPDATE: THE NEXT MORNING***
I can’t move. I literally need my husband to help me get out of bed. I hurt in places I didn’t think it was possible to hurt. It’s even hurting to type this. I’ve taken advil and aleve and neither are doing much.
Sitting down/standing up is the best! I need to actually mentally pep talk myself into doing it. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the stairs in my two story house!
This is awesome!
I can’t wait until next year.