The World's Toughest Mudder

“Probably the Toughest Event on the Planet.”
9/21 (Div) - 3 Laps - 26:21:39

I am so, so sorry this post is incredibly late.  In fact, the "back log" of posts and the total silence on here has mostly been due to the fact that I knew I had to write this post first before I could do anything else.  The funny thing is, I wrote 99% of this on the way home, but never bothered to sit down and edit it.  So here, at long last, is my account of experiencing THE WORLD'S TOUGHEST MUDDER.

I will begin by saying that if nothing else, I can certainly affirm that yes, it was very, very tough.  But not only was it every bit as difficult as promised, it was every bit as fun as I had hoped.

Background: WHAT IS WTM? (Official Video)

As you know if you have read my other race posts, Tough Mudder is a series of obstacle course races that have taken the world by a storm of popularity over the past few years.  In 2011 for the first time the creators of Tough Mudder hosted the first ever World’s Toughest Mudder that was a 24 hour obstacle course race you had to qualify for by completing one of the Tough Mudder courses in the top 5% of finisher times. Those who qualified were able to then register for WTM, which took place in Englishtown, New Jersey.  Last year they held the event in December, and it was god awful cold.  Many people were not able to complete even one single lap because they simply did not expect the extreme temperatures to make the course as difficult as it was.  Prize money went to the top male (7 laps) and top female (6 laps) finisher.

When I first heard about this event, all I could think about was how much I wanted to do it.

2012 COURSE

In 2011 the WTM course was 8 miles long, in 2012 it was 10 miles long, with over 35 obstacles.The obstacles themselves for the most part were very similar to the ones in any Tough Mudder, though many of them you had to do twice, and almost all of them had penalties for failure to complete them.  In this case, the penalty was usually jumping into an Arctic Enema, or the infamous giant ice bath.

I am very proud to say I was able to complete every single obstacle on all 3 laps.  (With the generous help of fellow Mudders.) I was determined to NOT take an ice bath, despite the fact I was wearing a wetsuit.  It is kind of amazing how far being stubborn can take you.

THE PREP

Gear was a huge obstacle on its own in preparing for this race.  I have never before run in a wetsuit or in true cold weather in general.  I didn’t have much in the way of camping gear, or any sort of cold weather clothes.  I had to get a couple of wetsuits, smart wool socks, head warmers, gloves, headlamps, a tent, and all kinds of other stuff.  Some of it turned out to be a life saver, some of it I didn’t end up using, some of it would have been helpful if the weather had not been as perfect and beautiful as it was.  I found a community of other participants online, which was incredibly helpful.  A few of them had done the race before, while others were testing out all kinds of gear, reporting problems, injuring themselves, and planning, planning, planning.  It was a great relief to share fears and concerns with them, ask questions and get encouraged.

MY EXPERIENCE

My outrigger teammate Bruno and I set off for New Jersey wondering what on earth we were getting ourselves into, and very excited to face such a unique challenge.  "Tent City" greeted us on the New Jersey race track late the night before, where we made camp and arranged all our gear.  The energy was buzzing, music was blasting, and there were people from all around the world.  I was surprised to learn that out of the 1,200 or so racers, only 50 were women.

We spotted last year's male winner setting up his tent near our, shouting orders to a few volunteers.  I could see Bruno eyeing him like prey - the game was on.  Last year's female winner was not at this race, however last year's 2nd place female finisher was out to make headlines.

I did not have lofty goals of winning, though I also wanted to do my best.  I went into the event with the goal of 5 laps.  (Since last year the female winning finisher had completed 6 laps on the 8 mile course, I found this a totally reasonable goal.)  My plan was to do 2 laps right away, rest and eat for an hour, then head back out for a third lap in the dark.  My plan was then to rest and get up early enough to complete two additional laps before the 24 hours were up.  If I was exhausted, I knew that since I had a running mate, we'd probably make it through, even if the going had to be slow.

Things did not go as planned.

The good news is, I do know I trained hard enough to complete my goal.  By the end I think I would have had enough energy in the tank to meet my 5 lap hopes, however, my strategy (and some bad luck) let me down.  For one thing, I did not do nearly enough cold weather training.  (The fall weather in SB was super warm, so I could really only try running in my wetsuit late at night at the beach.  Even then, I was cooking inside that thing!)  It was amazing how much the temperature in New Jersey changed the moment the sun went down.  Not only had I unconsciously decided I was relying on Bruno to help me through the dark, cold hours of the evening, I had also not made sure my alarm on my phone was fully juiced.

The worst part was, I suffered an odd injury 4 miles in on my first lap.  It was a silly thing to happen, but I stepped in a puddle of mud that was deeper than expected and a big slosh of it went up into my eye, all the way behind my eyelid.  The pain of the rocks and gunk roaming around my eyeball nearly brought me to my knees, but I decided to keep walking until I found an aid station.  I had the medical staff clean out my eye, but they kept reassuring me they could not see anything in there.  I didn’t believe them, because my eye felt like someone was squeezing lemon juice into it every time I moved it.  I had a second and a third aid station along the route clean and rinse it out, each one of them reassuring me there was nothing in my eye.  I was finally convinced that though my eye was clean, I had done some kind of damage to it.  (You can see the way it is a little swollen shut in the picture...)

The eye kept streaming tears, stung or ached when I moved it, and it through off my running rhythm pretty badly.  I could jog okay, but my head was tilted towards the eye and I kept trying to wink it closed.  When I was done with my first lap, I decided to just get a handful of trail mix and go out again.  The second lap was a little challenging since I was doing it with one eye partially closed.  I kept thinking of ways to make myself an eye patch, maybe with a bandana or even a pile of leaves, but nothing I could think of would hold up to the constant water obstacles on the course.  I finally just kept telling myself, “The eye is the fastest healing part of the body.  You will be okay.”  By the end of the second lap my eye was feeling a little better, but not good by any means.  The sun was rapidly setting, and temperatures were dropping.  I decided to take an hour break at the pit to rest my eye and see if it would clean itself out, and also to have some dinner.  Since I was stopping for a while, I took off my wetsuit, put it in a plastic bag and shoved it beneath my sleeping bag.  I also knew Bruno was probably on his third lap, and when he got back he would get me to go back out on the course.

That’s not how things went.

A few hours later than expected, I had slept through my alarm when Bruno finally got back to the tent, looking like someone who had just woken up in a gutter.  The first thing he said as he came in was, “I’m done.”  My eye was still so sore, I wondered if I was done too.  The cold was incredible by then, the sun had fully set, and I was actually trembling in my sleeping bag.  Both of us shared a few course stories, we had some food, and we crashed.  It was probably only 8 PM or so.  I heard someone outside our tent gasp “Can you believe it? The lead female has already completed her 6^th lap!”  Seriously? Well, I guess my shot at winning some money are long gone now.  That blew me away.

Feeling a little miserable and defeated, I slept, and slept, and slept.  My phone died so my AM alarm did not go off as expected, instead I woke up around 7 feeling groggy.  My eye was sealed shut with gunk, but once I cleaned it out I was delighted to find that it was not sore anymore, though my face was looking a little puffy and swollen.  By sunrise, over half the participants had quit.  There were containers where folks were supposed to leave their timing chips when they were done, and by sunrise they were all full.

Bruno could hardly stand up, but we managed to rouse ourselves for some breakfast and go see how everyone else was doing. As we walked around a ton of folks had fully packed up all their gear, their tents, and went home.  This was indeed not an event for the faint of heart.  I heard a few fellows who had come out from England say they were done after one lap.  One lap! They came out from England and only did one lap?? That seemed amazing to me.  I still, however, was feeling pretty lame since I had only done two and then slept through the night.

After some hot tea, food, and a little sorting, Bruno asked me if I wanted to do one more.  I was most certainly ready to do one more… in fact I felt downright energetic now that my eye was feeling better, but I didn’t want to leave him all cold and miserable, and frankly the thought of doing one more lap on my own felt a little daunting in the morning chill.  Not many racers were out on the course, so I was not sure if I’d be able to complete all the obstacles.  I felt kind of like I had failed, since I didn't even hit the half way mark of what I set out to do.  I think he could sense my disappointment, so after some more food and water, and as the sun continued to rise, we had some renewed hope.

It was then that I saw Bruno doing a little soul searching, and he looked up at me with grim determination.  “Lets do it.  Both of us.  One more lap. That’s what we came here for.”

I was so excited, though also a little concerned ... he really didn't look like he was going to make it through another lap.

“I’m not a sissy!” He announced with some gusto at my look, which convinced me that one way or another, we'd make it through one more loop.

Putting on my cold wetsuit was probably hilarious to watch.  I was breathing like someone giving birth every time the cold rubber moved, but once it was on it toasted up quickly.  The next part was finding shoes.  The two pairs of shoes and socks I had used for my first two laps I had stupidly left outside all night, and they were rock hard frozen.  I could not have put them on if I wanted to, so I dug around for my third pair of shoes and socks before realizing that my wetsuit gloves were also frozen.  Those I could not leave without, so I took them to the handy WTM microwaves.

A British guy was cooking up some fish sticks (or something like that) in the microwave before me.  I was a little worried my gloves were going to end up smelling like fish, but I was too cold to really care.  So into the microwave they went.  They came out nice and steamy, and putting them on my hands was like a dream.  They of course chilled up quickly afterwards, but at least I got them on my hands.

We both set out for our 3^rd lap.  It was actually really fun to have someone else with me, especially since there were so few others on the course.  We saw a few men that had bandanas (lap counters) indicating they were on their 7^th or 8^th lap… it was almost hard to watch them.  They could hardly move, some of them struggled with even the simplest of obstacles.  Every pull seemed like extreme effort.  Bruno was on the end of his rope as well.  If they ever slipped to the ground, it took him a long time to stand back up.  I felt like a dork for being so energetic, and started to really regret that I had slept so much through the night.  Poor planning, but I was also grateful my eye was finally better.  It’s the little things….

We made it through the course with no major problems.  My least favorite obstacle, a huge wall you had to climb over with a rope, had actually been removed from the course completely sometime during the night.  I literally squealed when I saw that, since it had been the most terrifying of all the obstacles to me since I was convinced I was going to slip off of it and land on my head.

I also felt like a cheater when I came almost at a strong full sprint into the finish, grinning like a dork.  People were cheering for me like a champion, and I wanted to tell them all I had only done 3 laps and didn’t really deserve their praise.  They all seemed impressed anyway.  There were cameras everywhere, volunteers everywhere, tons of free samples of energy bars and hot showers.  A huge pile of dirty shoes had accumulated in the corner, which were going to be washed and donated to charity.

So in the end, I am sad I didn’t meet my goal of 5 laps because I knew I could have done more.  However, the 3 laps I did accomplish were exciting, fun, eye opening, and sometimes things just don’t go as planned.  I was asked by one of the event media camera crews if I would do it again, and I replied “Yes, in a heartbeat.”  I want to come back and meet or (hopefully) break my original goal.  I feel much more prepared for what I would face on the course, I know what I did wrong, and I know ways I could improve.

The winning woman did 9 laps.  That’s over 90 miles of running … simply incredible!  (She has a blog that is a fun read, I think.  She is my hero.)  The bar is SUPER high for next year, and I'm thrilled by the challenge.  What an amazing event to be a part of! Even if they have it back on the east coast again, I am planning to do this again next year.  It was novel in a way that is hard to describe, and the people there one of a kind.  

I am totally hooked!

SPECIAL THANKS
To my Dad for everything.  (You know.)
To Brandon, Traci, Marla, Megan and Daniel for being gracious hosts.
To all family and friends for your support, encouragement and advice. :)

LOVE YOU ALL!

Outrigger Iron Season

Normally I'm so good about updating after a race, but life has just been nutty.  So instead of a race post, I'm going to do a "season thus far" recap.  First, I went into this season thinking it was just going to be fun, and not so competitive.  I was excited to meet new people, train hard, and play on the beach.  I was so wrong... turns out we had more folks return than I had ever imagined, and we were all ready to work hard, so we got pushed, and pushed, and pushed.  The competition among teams has been fierce, especially against one behemoth club down South.  (Maybe the only huge club in SoCal this year... but they are monsters.)

Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was delighted when our ladies boat won 1st in short course in the first race in San Diego.  (Complete with 2 newbies.)  I doubled a couple races after (paddling both short course followed immediately by long) and got a 4th place mug for short course in the 3rd race.  At our home race, the Rig Run (of which I had the honor of being chairman) the ladies short course boat took 3rd, open co-ed took 2nd.  That was kind of mind blowing ... double races and double places!  I was grateful when that event was over - it was a ton of work and I was tired of getting called by the city of Santa Barbara. :P

Then the REAL work started.  Coaches decided to beat the living snot out of us for the month of June, gearing up for the Iron Championships.  We won the co-ed open race last year, but we knew it was going to be much much harder to even place this year.  In the past big clubs have gone gender, but "the enemy" was openly, unabashedly placing crews in every division with the intention of taking 1st and 2nd in everything.  It's a little nuts... but whatever.  We were getting up for 5 AM practiced on M, W, F and in the evenings on T, TH.  Then distance on Saturdays.  Correct.... six days a week of paddling.  I was not allowed to cross train (my road bike whimpered at me daily) and I slept like some kind of rotting dead log every night.  It was stressful and exhausting.  Tensions among the team were a little high, and the great unknowns of the future were looming - the pressure was really on.

I didn't know how the championship race went, even when it was over.  It was hard; very hard.  The start was a little wonky and a bunch of boats jumped out early on us when the line was not straight.  The swells were enormous.  We caught the women's pack so fast it was hard to keep track of what boat was what.  It was hot.  We had a great glide at the finish, but I knew we didn't take 1st.  I was so grateful to hit the water when it was all over that didn't even bother me.  I didn't think we had 2nd.  I was convinced at the end at best we had 4th or 5th place.  (Still nothing to sneeze at.)  I had to catch a plane that night for Seattle, so my mind was wandering a bit and I was just happy it was all over.  Then I got a text message from a teammate who stayed behind at the race site.

2nd place.  Wow!!  So great when hard work is rewarded... :)

I also just have to add that it has been fun having Eric on the crew this year.  He has such a great epic face in all his race pictures!!!

Rawr! The face of a champion!

Overall the team has been great.  Wonderful new energy, and I can't wait to hit the island with everyone and dive into change season.  Huzzah!

The Call to Adventure

 “It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” – Bilbo Baggins

A dear friend of mine recently boarded a plane and literally knowing nothing about what he was doing, jetted off to Romania.  (Kudos again, mi amigo.)  Several of his first stories involving packing, airline hassles, and pre-journey jitters brought back a flood of memories from my own excursions in far off lands.  That whiff of a thrill, that mysterious beyond; it made me recall how much I love and miss it.

I can’t help but believe that everyone needs to find a way to keep that sense of adventure in their life.  For true adrenaline junkies, the thrill may come from extreme sports and the occasional skydiving trip.  For others, maybe buying different fat contented milk is all the variety in life they need.

“The call to adventure” is usually the first phase of any good hero story.  Something happens, be it a tragedy, a given quest, or a simple idea run amok, inevitably in any good tale something occurs that wakes a character out of their daily stupor and calls them to something grander.  If you are like me, you maybe wonder your entire life when your adventure is going to find you.  And again if you are impatient like me, sometimes you make your own adventure.

I don’t want to say that I intentionally seek out trouble (though it happens occasionally anyway) and I don’t want to say that ho-hum happy life leaves me discontent.  There is, however, something about the daily grind, the blah expectations in behavior and mannerisms that I simply can’t stand and often feel obligated to reject.  Some of these rejections are subtle; pushing the rules slightly here, tweaking this stereotype just a bit, removing this or that old habit completely - it all makes me feel like life is worth the effort.

The appeals of stability are undeniable, but I can't help but think that sometimes the thrills of instability are their own reward.  Not so much seeking out hardship as much as giving yourself a new challenge, a consistent inability to get too relaxed and lazy.

As a child I longed for nothing more than my own adventure story, but when I really take a moment to think about it, this is a terrible desire! Frodo Baggins, for example, faced death, misery, pain and suffering at every turn of his long journey to destroy the ring of power.  He was hunted, constantly hungry, cold, lost, and weary.  Why would this seem so appealing to me as a reader? You hear over and over again that all Frodo wants to do is go back home to his pipe and fluffy bed.  But something between all that still hooks me – there is appeal and horror in the thought of my character being tested, my resolve stretched wafer thin, my foundations challenged. There is excitement in that sense of purpose, that frightening call to something so much bigger than myself.  I know that is a huge part of why I love fantasy books and epic video games and movies.

The 'great outdoors' deserves its own chapter in this discussion. The power of nature and humility that comes in putting our own small selves in perspective with the world as a whole and the abundant miracles on the planet are staggering.  I have recently tried to 'get out there' more often, and the results have been refreshing and rejuvenating in so many ways.

Is adventure what modern cushy American life attempts to constantly strip away? Or is it present in such small ways that we miss it?  It is all too tempting to stay in our homes, not talk to our neighbors, shut our eyes and ears to opportunities that are constantly knocking.  Maybe I will do this or that someday.  Next year.  Next week.  Not now, I'm tired from my long day of sitting.  At least for me, there is always that call ... a whisper in the wind beckoning me outside, to try something new, to risk my heart in love, to have faith in flawed people who don't deserve my trust, to test my strength and resolve in sports and good habits, to challenge myself to be better, stronger.  A little spontaneity goes a long way.

Can it be boiled down to a pursuit of novelty? Or what Chris might call the need to have a "project"?  Are we obsessed with novelty as a part of our culture? A study on Rhesus monkeys gave chimps an option between assured reward and gambling for their meals.  Time and time again, the animals preferred risk over regulation.  The primates preferred to gamble, and the unreliable result provided constant novelty.  I'm honestly not sure what decision I would make in such a case, but I find it interesting.

What I do know is I want to feel ALIVE.  What does that mean to you?  Maybe it changes - sometimes all I want is to feel like the things I do matter; other days I want my breath taken away in wonder.  People face chances to take more risk every day, be it financial, emotional, physical, or creative.  Whatever the case, it seems to me that it's an essential part of a healthy life.  So don’t be surprised if the next time you step outside your front door you find adventure is sitting there waiting for you, wagging its tail.

When the call to adventure comes, will you go?