On to the next

I stood there raising myself up onto my toes and stretching.  We were all (500 people per heat) milling.  Some were laughing and you could always tell the newbies because they were just standing looking around.  There was a guy on the loudspeaker but we were so many in number, no one could hear.  Then there was fire above the banner. Huge volcanic plumes shot out and we shouted in unison as our pulses raced, our feet began to fidget and we surged forward.  It was hot to run under there. The race began.

For four days prior it rained; sometimes steady, heavy or just a drizzle but it was constant.  That made our course sloppy.  You could not take a step and not be submerged at least two inches in to dark, deep mud.  My running partner and I did our best to stay to the outside of the "path" . It was muggy and thank goodness only cloudy.  We kept praying for the rain to hold off.  We could see it watching us with great interest and blowing windy threats our way. "Be ready ladies. I'm gonna show up for your parade!"

Through the first obstacle: a little maze shaped like a castle. How cute.  We giggled and I heard newbies say "Ohhh this is EASY"  I hunkered down and pushed a little harder.  The crowd was thinning out.

Next we came to some "tunnels" loosely called such; more like tarps over mud filled trenches.  These were also fairly simple aside from the dark.  You struggled to see the rocks and roots before they pinched your palms and snapped at  your knees.  Whew! Good job.  Onto the next.

The "teeter totter".  These looked like chicken coop ladders but they were strung together like inverted "V's":  four all together and the last set being so steep you had to run down or scooch on your arse.  My cheeks are splinter free, thanks for askin.

And we ran some more; all the way to the hurdles.  Now these were chest high for my 5'4" bad assed warrior self and so I had to run, lunge, hike my leg and roll.  Beautiful vision isn't it? ahhhahahhaha. Well as you land in mud, (Did I point out there was some on the course? ) you had to duck and crawl under a razor wired plank and you DID  have to crawl.  It was knee high. Five more times we jumped and ducked.

We then did some running; around some of those newbies who were discovering it wasn't so "easy".  Sweat soaked our clothes.  As we jogged out of the forest, we saw or rather smelled mud. Oh yeah baby, this is one of the reasons you become a warrior.  We had to cross a bog full of stagnant waist high midnight colored lumpy pudding.. uh no wait... mud.  It was gross. There couldn't have been an ear within an quarter mile radius that didn't hear "EWWWWW" as it crept into our shoes, sped passed our socks and snuggled in between our toes.  The other cracks and crevices were even LESS impressed by this uncoventional spa treatment. 


It was now time for some water sports. We trudged out of the bog of stink and loped to the swollen swift moving stream where we all spent a little extra time.  We simply wanted to shed the extra fifteen pounds of spoiled Delmonte pudding we felt we were wearing in our warrior pants and shoes.


What? Why yes we did. We ran after that. AND came to the obstacle that stopped me short.  A fifteen foot wall with a rope dangling in front of it.  "What the firetruck?" I shook my head. This shocked me and for a moment I thought about running around it but my partner said. "I can't climb this." and I stepped up, handed her a rope and said "Shut up. Let's do it." and by God we did.  Up and over.  Now the over part was tricky because it was like a ladder but my stumpy legs didn't reach the distance so I had to let go for each rung and grab the next.  Remember everything is covered in shiny slick mud.  Regardless of my fear and the frustration of climbing that effing wall with anywhere from 6 to 10 others (which only make the wall SWAY....HELLOOOOO..).I did it and when my partner and I hit the ground realizing we had, I yelled something like "Mother Firetrucker!" and we went whooping off in to the woods.  Warriors on the loose.


Nut jobs? you betcha.  And we swam some more and climbed some hills and we ran a little farther.  I have said that if this race had been dry, I'd have run differently; better.  But I was doing okay until while running/dodging stumps, roots and rocks, I missed.  There was a thick popping noise as my ankle twisted and shouted at me.  I was just passed the half way point. 


no.  I simply said no.  I got up and walked for a couple steps.  I twisted it and heard some more popping as my tendons shifted painfully.  I wiped tears from my face and sighed. My partner stopped.  "You done?  Want the medic cart?"  She may as well have asked me if I wanted to eat my children.  "No." I said again out loud this time through gritted teeth and began to walk faster. My muscles winced but I ignored them and began to jog.  My pain was tuned out. I was going to fucking finish this race.


More water and it was cold.  I welcomed it, working my ankle in it like a whirlpool.  PT on the go. It's all the rage for anyone who is of warrior status.  Finally, we heard the shouting and the music.  We were almost there.  There is something about it; the cheering and the thumping ...it gives you strength way down deep.  We began to race each other and laugh.   Around the corner we came to the cargo nets.  Up ya go.  I pulled and growled ignoring the throbbing in my lower leg.  My partner was just ahead.  Then we dashed to the junkyard: a field crammed full of tires to jump alternating with cars lined up bumper to bumper.  Some had sunroofs and of course those were open so you couldn't just run across.  Some of the hoods were gone so you might have to jump from car to car. We did that four times and came to the coup de gras. The reason you do this.

Fire.  Can you hear me say it? FYE-YER

There are two burning rows of logs that you must jump.  The heat makes you second guess your eyebrow status when finished.  The air is thick, dark and wavy.  You are wet and feel like you weigh forty pounds more than when you started and to confess, you look it because somehow you have collected rocks, pebbles, sticks, hay and other natural components in all the secret pockets of your clothing and body.   I know this is true since every time I shower, I leave a little pile of muck and mud behind.  I told my friend I believe I am the only one in our house who can currently shit a sand castle.  The saving grace there was that I made it leech free. Silver linings must always be found.

And last but not least is the pit.  It is filled with chocolaty mud and covered in razor wire.  The crowd usually eggs the warriors on to get in/ get dirty as creatively as possible.  There are cannon balls, swan dives, belly flops and most frequently, "Too tired, get me the hell over that line" fall ins.  As I crawled out and staggered those last fifty yards I began to smile; uncontrollably.  I did it.  I took my medal, placed my hat on my head and snagged (after my bananas) my beer.  My kids and husband were laughing and clicking away at the pix.  No hugs though.   Not until after the firetruck water.  And I'm not covering up the "f"bomb.  It really was firetruck water that I believe they piped in from the Arctic.  My lips were blue and I shivered non stop.

And that was my race.  It was hard and painful.  I have bruises which make me feel like I failed at ninja school during the nun chucks portion of exams.  But I am a warrior and I will be one next year. On to the next.  Wanna come with me?  We have room on our team. My daughter is hounding me to train already..