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!

Training Day (and Week and Month)

For some reason I keep thinking that I will have more time on my hands when outrigger season ends, and for some reason I magically am surprised when it does not come true.  Actually, I guess I expected it, but I'll keep fawning ignorance.

I have been training, training, training still but it's not longer in a canoe, it's at the gym, on the road, and up and down stairs.  The fall/winter line-up is:

*Carpinteria Triathlon (Olympic Distance) - September 30
*Tough Mudder Las Vegas (Double Header, Saturday & Sunday) - October 6 & 7
*SLO Mud Mash (10k) - October 28
*World's Toughest Mudder (24 Hours Obstacle Race) - November 17

I honestly don't know how to begin to be ready for the World's Toughest Mudder, but I'm excited, I think it's going to be a lot of fun, and my only prayer right now is to stay injury free.  I want to be smart, which means not going totally crazy.  We'll see how that goes!

I lift every weekday morning at 6.  I do some kind of bike, run, or swim most evenings.  On the weekend if I can, I'm doing long distance.  My goal soon is to do three distance runs (maybe 10 or 15 miles) 3 times on a weekend, one Saturday am, then pm, then Sunday am.  If I can work up to that I think I'll feel much more confident going into the 24 hour race.

I also joined Crossfit for the month of October, and am looking forward to training with teammates there.  I have to remember to rest, though usually my body lets me know loud and clear when it's done for the day.  Balance, balance, balance.... hurrah!

Ka Nai'a Outrigger Videos!

Over the 3 day weekend, I finally got my butt into gear and made some paddling videos that have been waiting for me a long time.

First, a little montage from Ka Nai'a Outrigger's training paddle out to Santa Cruz Island.  We left in the wee hours of the morning Friday, paddled 30 miles, then stayed on the island 2 nights before paddling back home.  The ocean was rough on the way over, but placid and beautiful on the return.  The fog totally surrounded us, so you couldn't even tell which way we were heading.  Surreal, and on top of it a massive pod of dolphins came out to play with us!

The second video is from a race I wrote about here, the Dana Point change race.  You can see (towards the very end of the video) exactly how close the race was in the final miles, before the other team pulled away, finishing one minute ahead of us.  (Aaahh... epic!!)

CATALINA CROSSING is this weekend.  I can't believe how this summer has flown.

Change Season - Dana Point 2nd Place!

So in change season, typically our tiny team runs two gender crews in the "minor" races before the Catalina US Championships.  Everything, of course depends greatly on logistics with our limited budget and paddler supply, but either way change season has always, always been my favorite part of the sport of outrigger.  You go crazy long distance, you have to think strategically, you have to go crazy all out yet you have to be ready to be in the canoe for a very, very, long time.

This past week was the Dana Point 9-man race (change race) and the first of this season.  To our delight, we were told we would be running co-ed with our top people.

Expectations were pretty high, but happily we had an amazing race, during which we had first place a few times, but ultimately were bested by a large club from down South.  This 2nd place tasted very sweet nonetheless, and reminded all of us once again why we love this sport so much and that hard work really does pay off.  As our coach said as we were out on the water, "These are the moments that make coaching totally worth it."

A few of us stayed behind for the afternoon to collect our bling.  (Which included a really cool plaque made of island wood of some kind ... it was very special, so we decided to give it to our coaches.)

Only a couple months ago many of us would have said Ka Nai'a was going to have a laid back, more relaxed year which was less focused on being competitive and more focused on building its base.  Oops? :)

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 TOUGH MUDDER

Known as the "toughest event on the planet," with the tag line of "because marathons are boring," the Tough Mudder is based off of an obstacle course that was created by British Special Forces and is completed by thousands of crazy people all over the United States yearly. The specific event I participated in was located at Vail Lake, near Temecula California and was about 11 miles long which included 21 different obstacles. The "shock and awe" obstacle being the finale, an electric gauntlet of peril as well as 12 foot walls, log carries, dramatic jumps off platforms into water and crawling through itty bitty trenches and beneath barbed wire.

Quite a few folks run this event in teams, but there is a credo you recite at the start of the race which basically says you will help your fellow Mudders tackle the obstacles, that it's not about time, and you'll be willing to assist others when they need it, carry the wounded, etc.  I couldn't resist the call to glory long ago when I heard about this event.  It not only sounded fun, it sounded like a great challenge.  I am very pleased to report it was everything I had hoped and more fun that I had dared to imagine.

This event was, in summary, a giant adventure playground for adults.

THE EPIC TRAINING

Before I go into the details of my race experience, I must first take a moment to talk about the training I was a part of before the event even began.  A friend of mine found out I was signed up for the Tough Mudder "all on my lonesome" and hooked me up with an incredible pack of women who were doing the same race (one day earlier) as a group.  They are all part of a local Roller Derby team, the Mission City Brawlin' Betties.  These ladies are rockin' badass fabulous, and I'm forever grateful that I had a chance to meet them and train for this crazy race with them.  They raced as "Team Pretty."  It took me a little while to get used to their "derby names" but before I knew it I was on the phone with my Mom saying, "Oh yeah so tomorrow I'm carpooling up with Havoc, Misfit and Queefie to Crissy Bang-Bang's Dad's house so he can kick our asses up and down some gnarly hills."  Bang-Bang's Dad has property in the Middle-of-Nowhere National Park (okay, Los Olivos) where he trains students in Aikido.  For the love of his daughter and her team (and tag-alongs like myself) he took 3 weekends to get us ready for the big race and let all of us pay him in the form of pie and beef jerky.

I must admit, that man got the best of me.  Not only did we do crab walks, hill runs, log carries, Aikido strengthening, crazy push-ups and hundreds of jumping jacks, the final session we did all of that while he sprayed us down with a garden hose.  Let me tell you, after training with him I felt VERY prepared for ANYTHING.  At one point, lying on my back in the dirt and thistle, holding my legs 6 inches off the ground, then 12 inches, then  back to 6 trying to count to ten and getting gallons of water spurted up my nose, sputtering and shivering, the thought did cross my mind that I was indeed a little crazy.

That thought made me smile.

THE EPIC RACE

The weather was perfect.  The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement.  I have been asked several times if I was nervous, and generally speaking no, I really was not.  I knew that come what may, this was going to be a great day.

I was joined by 5 friends (most of whom were veterans of the SLO Mud Mash and other similar events) that were just as jazzed to take part in the mayhem.  I was specifically talked into it by my brother-in-law, Sean, who had a not so pleasant Tough Mudder experience last year in Snow Valley.  (Where it actually *snowed* on his race day....)  Since we weren't an actual team, I didn't expect to see most of them for the duration of the race.  However as it turns out both Sean and my friend Ben were all able to keep about the same pace up, so we stuck together.  I think their company made the distance seem very short, and I was undeniably grateful for their aid on a few of the obstacles.

Did I mention there was an obstacle *before* the Starting line? Yeah, just to make sure everyone is serious... so here is a pic of me on that wall, next to The Flash! :)

Last week I was a little disheartened because my planned training schedule had fallen short, since I got sick as a dog the second week of February and rolled my ankle slightly during trampoline dodge-ball on Valentines day.  I was feeling great race day morning, however, and had been chomping at the bit all week to get to that starting line.

The race is so popular 500 people leave in "waves" every 20 minutes.  There was an MC to entertain the folks for a little while before taking off, where you recite the Mudder Code and get pumped up with lots and lots of "Oorah!"  The philosophy and atmosphere make the race very unique, in that you feel very connected to the folks around you and you know that if anything were to happen, all the strangers around you would be at your side ready to help out.  the event is seen as a "challenge" instead of a "race" so time doesn't matter.  There are no chips to record your time and teamwork is highly encouraged.  There were costumes everywhere - I followed The Flash and Superman for the majority of the event; among other notable team names were "The Motorboaters," "Mudder Prison," "Team Trojan" (wearing red tutu skirts) and "Team Merkin: We Got It Covered."  Quintessential guys in Speedos, weird wigs, and I have to mention my teammate Ben running in "Jesus sandals."

My taste of TOUGH came immediately at the second obstacle, which was a low crawl under barbed wire fence.  Sean crawled under the obstacle like Spiderman, showing off his Army Strong training.  I tried pathetically to keep up with him using the inch worm strategy, and lifted my butt in the air just high enough to snag my pants on the very real barbed wire.  All it took was a light snag, and TA-DA! I was mooning everyone behind me.  My pants had a hole in them over my right butt check the size of the palm of my hand.
 

"Holy monkey... I'm on the first mile and I'm already wanting to quit since I don't want that hole to get any bigger..."  But oh, miracle of miracles! What was I given with my bib number at registration? (Sing the following with the "12 Days of Christmas" tune...) FOOOOOUR SAAAAFETY PIIIIINS!!  Praise!  I pinned myself together (two smallish holes were much better than one huge one) and kept on running.  (In the photo there you can kind of see the hole peeking out as I am jumping across giant muddy trenches in the ground.  Family and friends were gathered at certain obstacles to watch the crazies and cheer us on!)

I gingerly stepped around rocks in a dry river bed, climbed and rolled under logs, found some very narrow trenches, and then hit the first (and one of the worst) obstacles: crawling through dangling electric shock wires.

Mother Fraking Mudder, these things were crazy.  Saying they "hurt" isn't really the right term ... it's more like they punch you really hard.... like a really strong gnome is suddenly slamming his tiny rock hard fist into your body as fast and as hard as he can, and it somehow makes whatever muscle he touches spasm.  I got a really good one to the back that made me roar like a man, all the while volunteers are screaming over us  "Don't stop! Crawl faster and it will be better!"  But holy cow I'm just not a very fast crawler! Ben at my side kept yelling as I heard the snap, crackle, pop noises all in his general direction.  It was like my friend was getting tortured! (And he wasn't wearing a shirt... hmmm..)

Haha but somehow it was still fun ... I know, I know ... but it was!  More hills came after that, and more trenches, and daring leaps over giant muddy holes in the ground.  There are snarky signs posted all along the course to "motivate" you.  I took it easy on most of the uphills, saving my energy for whatever was around the next corner.  There was a giant ice bath that was alarmingly cold - it made my entire body feel like it was gasping for life, and once I was out the lingering tingle stayed with me for about another mile.  At least, until I got to the plunging tower, where you took a leap off a 20 foot platform into a giant muddy hole.  I have never had a problem with heights to I just went for it, and there was that little moment once I started falling that made me think "Oh my ... this is actually really high! Squeeeeee!!!"

There were some pretty big gaps after that which were flat or hilly and just for running.  I felt so good running, I think because it was something I was good at and there was nothing being slung my way.  It was a bit dusty, and the hills just never seemed to stop.

Little by little we made progress, and mile marker after mile marker kept us going.  We carried wood, we slogged through mushy lake crossings, we shimmied over water traps and balanced on 2x4's.


My favorite obstacle was probably the giant Slip N' Slide.  It had big bumps and a jerk with a fire hose who sprayed me in the face the entire way down.  I was grinning like an idiot as I slammed at who knows how many miles per hour into the giant pool at the bottom.  I wanted to turn around and do it 10 more times!  By then you could see the finish, hear the fun blaring music, and I was certainly ready to get the little pebbles out of my shoes, so I decided to keep going.  There was still a lake to swim in, and Everest to climb.  "Everest" is a big half pipe that you have to run up and either grab the edge on your own, or hope you have someone there to catch you and help you over.  I had been a little intimidated by the thought of this obstacle for a while, so I was incredibly grateful and happy that Ben and Sean were with me and I trusted them enough to not drop me on my face.  They both made it look so easy ... even Ben with his non-tread sandals!

Success on the first try!  (Thanks to the boys.)  Then it was on to the finale, and the most well known obstacle, the Electro Shock Therapy run.  If you have never seen any videos of these runs, you really should check it out, it's both horrific and hilarious.  Of all the people I invited to join us for the event, this was hands down the number one reason everyone gave for not wanting to come.  "Oh hell no, you guys are crazy" was probably the most popular line, followed by "Electric shocks? You PAY for this race?"  Yeah ... well... I mean... it's hard core! Right?

My Uncle went onto the website after I told him about it during Thanksgiving, and came back to me with wide eyes.  "Megan, have you actually seen the website for this event?"  Yes, I'm all signed up.  You kind of have to visit the website to sign up ...

Anyway, there were hay bails in the way, so it wasn't exactly a straight shot to the Finish, which you could actually see on the other end.  The folks who went in front of us all seemed to biff really bad... their backs or legs would get shocked and they would fall down hard, face first into the mud.  I guess a few people had even broken their arms earlier in the day!  It made it worse to just stand and watch, so once the coast was clear we all just took a deep breath.

My mantra was simple: DON'T FALL DOWN.

I got hit by one bomber hard in my left quad towards the end; felt the after effect of that for about an hour, but it didn't stop me. (Whew!)  Sean let out at least one banshee good scream and his body twisted towards me in a convulsion, but he made it through as well!

So, does everyone see Superman and The Flash standing behind us in the charge photo? Yeah, so the age old question of "Who would win a race? The Man of Steel or The Flash?"  The answer is, Megan, Sean, and Ben! Haha.  I think we finished in about 2 hours and 45 minutes.  The clock wasn't really anywhere obvious so that's just what I was told by our crowd of fans.  (Oh, and Bruno, my Muddy Buddy ...  finished nearly an HOUR ahead of us....animal!)

I'm already looking at signing up for another race in Las Vegas this October ... maybe even signing up to do both race days on Saturday and Sunday.  Double the fun!!  This more than any other event makes me truly believe that everyone is stronger than they think they are - don't run from an opportunity to surprise yourself, and never be afraid to look your fears in the face and grin right back at them!

Epic Mud Pics

Finally, got some good race shots posted. So fun!

The Mud Mash 10k

For those of you who do not remember the circumstances surrounding my last 10k, you may want to catch up on your history here.  If you don’t want to read that saga, you should at least know that the last time I ran a 10k, I didn’t even finish.  Yeah…

That little fact, however, wasn’t about to stop me from attempting a new and exciting challenge, the San Luis Obispo Mud Mash that took place on Halloween morning.  Eric caught a last minute cold from his lab mates and was unable to participate, but the mighty legend Bruno and my office side-kick Matthew made the trip.  Quite honestly, I had no clue what I was getting into. 

I had seen the course map and read the descriptions of the obstacles, but the reality was something entirely different.  The loop was 3 miles long, so 5k runners only had to do it once, but 10k runners had to complete it twice.  (I hope the real pictures get loaded soon, but in the meantime here are some weird stills from my video camera, thanks to Danielle for her efforts in capturing the day.)

Despite the fact that costumes were highly encouraged, we didn’t want anything to be unnecessarily cumbersome.  The morning weather was lovely, an almost perfect fall day complete with shining sun and a cool breeze.

The Water Walk

Not even a quarter mile from the start line, we veered from the perfectly pleasant paved bath directly into Laguna Lake.  This, my friends, was not puddle jumping.  No, no.  This was a waist deep wade through lake water.  If there had been any sort of lingering hope in anyone’s mind that they may be able to walk away from this race with minimum wetness, those hopes were dashed immediately here.  Slogging through the chilly water, many were likely already wondering what they were getting themselves into.

The Rope Crawl

Once you get through the waist deep wade, runners were directed under a bridge to another section of lake that was laced with ropes to help pull yourself across.  I made the decision to go for it, and used only my arms for this section.  The strategy paid off, despite the fact that I was now head to toe soaked.  I flew past a couple of the guys who were trying to trudge it ahead of me.

We excited the muddy bank for a brief, squishy trail bit, until we hit…

The Swamp Stomp

Back into the water we went, but this section was much more bog-like.  I leapt in to avoid the hazardous looking slope down, but soon regretted the decision as I felt my shoes sink into the ooey-gooey muck at the bottom.  I quickly chose to simply swim, freestyle at first then breaststroke later, simultaneously hoping to kick out some of the pebbles that had found their way into my shoes.

Exiting that bank brought us into a small forest of tall reeds.  Taller than me, that is, and very dense; a narrow path had been tromped out for us to make our way throught.

At long last, we reached open field.  It felt good to actually be able to just run for a bit, thought my shoes were making that horrible “squish squish” noise and weight about 10lbs each.

Low Wall (about 6 ft.)

Our next obstacle was a fence that was easy enough to hope over.  The volunteers on this course were incredibly cheerful and encouraging, and I tried to thank them between gasps for their support.

Over Unders

These were literally spike pits, which were supposed to make it very obvious which parts were for over and which parts were for under.  (“Avoid death at all costs, please!”)  Some of the under bits were really low, and the volunteers got super excited when folks would do a “full body roll” for them through the mud at the bottom.  I complied happily enough.

Apparently these were more of a challenge for the men than the ladies, since straddling a small pole poses a unique threat to their anatomy.

Cargo Net

Keep in mind that by the time we reached the Cargo Net, we had probably barely gone more than a mile.  This part proved a unique challenge to some, but I have always had a talent for cargo nets (which I attribute to many years of training at the pirate playground at Sea World).  This net went up a good 12 feet into the air, and some folks had mild panic attacks at the top.  I more or less recklessly tumbled down the back side and moved on.

High Wall

This, sadly, was the one obstacle that defeated me.  It was a 12 foot wall which you were supposed to use a rope to climb up and over, but the rope had no knots and was wet from previous slimy racers who had used it.  I gave it a good attempt, but slid half way down and gave my hands a wee bit of a rope burn.  I got scared that I was potentially going to fall and hurt my back or my leg, so I decided to go around the obstacle.

Hay Bail Hurdles

Thus began the steady incline.  It began pleasant enough, following a narrow rocky trail towards the mountains, but said pleasant trail quickly turned steep and uncomfortable.  I sadly was unprepared for this portion, having done pretty much no hill training.  On the first very steep bit came a series of four large hay bales which runners had to climb over.

I admit, I walked quite a bit on this section.  It was a brisk, long stride dignified walk, but a walk all the same.  My breath was coming in short supply, and I had to place my hands on my hips for support.  I still managed to smile at the fact that there was candy all over the hay bales so runners could “trick or treat” as we went.  The bales themselves weren’t difficult, and actually something of a nice break to distract me from the cursed incline.

Next came the mountain trail, which was by far the most difficult.  It was not listed as an obstacle, but I was amazed at how much I struggled on the hike the top of the peak.  Yes, I think it qualifies to be called a peak.  Up, up, up it went, and once I thought I was at the top I realized there was yet another hill to mount.  The view was beautiful, and it was a good feeling to know you were coming to the end of the evil hill.

The trail down was incredibly treacherous, and though I tried to keep my pace up I was terrified at any moment I was going to do a full on face plant.  As I tried my fancy footwork among the boulders, you could hear the song of a bagpiper atop one of the nearby ridges.

This may seem incredibly nerdy, but I completely felt like William Wallace prancing down to my awaiting army of Scots.  The bagpipe song put a new spring in my step, and though my hips began to ache with the impact of my momentum, I was eager to be rid of that mountain.

Once I hit the bottom, it felt incredible to be on flat ground again.  My legs felt alive again to be doing the motion they had been trained for: flat road!

The Mud Pit

Just behind the starting line and in front of the announcers booth was the mighty mud pit.  It was probably about 20 feed wide and 30 feet long, and they had lines of flags across the surface which you had to go beneath, and you couldn’t touch them (or the announcer would mock you ceaselessly).  The point of course being that you had to basically dive face first into the mud pit in order to cross it.

Face first I went; with great enthusiasm.  (Yeah, that's me in the picture going under the last flag of the pit...)  I have to admit this part was incredibly fun, if nothing else because it was so ridiculous.  Rocks scraped my elbows and knees, I couldn’t see a dang thing, and I could feel a hunk of sludge take up residence in my sports bra.

Awesome.

But what was even better? The fact that I was now only done with my 1^st lap, and I now had to do it ALL OVER AGAIN.

The second lap actually went much smoother.  I relished the lake section in which I was able to wash off the majority of the mud, and I knew roughly where all the obstacles were up ahead.  I zipped through them all, ignoring my still very heavy shoes and nasty dripping hair. 

I also got a charge when one of the volunteers called out to me saying “You’re the 4^th place girl! Keep it up!”

A couple more ladies passed me when I got back to that crazy fraking hill, but at that point I didn’t care.  I was doing my best, and having a blast.  The overall challenge had been unexpected, and the joyful spirit of the event was contagious.

Blazer the Viking

As one final obstacle, after the runners went through our second splurge into the mud pit, we were faced with defeating two gladiator Vikings who stood between us and the finish line.  Armed with plushy maces, they took out knees, the gut checked stomachs, they pummeled and battered the run down, muddy runners as one last insult to injury.  (They were noticeably nicer to the lady runners, though that didn’t stop me from slinging as much mud as I could carry at them.)  I don't know if you can tell from the picture, but that's Bruno charging for the finish line past the helmed beast.

The results came in, and soon Bruno and I accepted our first place awards for our age divisions.  (Bruno was also the 4^th overall finisher, I ended up as the 6^th female finisher.) 

Of course, once it was all over I realized just how much fun it had been.  I would certainly do it again, and am excited that I have no officially finished a 10k race.  Next time I'll be sure to add some hill training into my regime, and never again will I take for granted dry, fluffy socks.

The Tale of the Rig Run

I ignored/forgot about my video camera yesterday at my outrigger race, but realized the tale of it all would make an excellent story and follow-up to my last post, so I'm going to blog about the event instead.

The morning began well; especially since I didn't sleep through my alarm. I felt rested and had plenty of time to lather myself in sunscreen, triple check that I had my paddle in my car, and ate a small bowl of Cheerios. It was still dark outside as I left the house around 5 AM, picking up a teammate on the way to Ledbetter Beach, where the second race of our season was about to take place. My club, Ka Nai'a, was hosting this race so we all had to arrive early enough to help set up the food, raffle, and t-shirt booths. I was happy to see that despite the chill of the thick morning fog, there was no wind.

This was going to be a good day.

Time ran away quickly as I helped tear apart raffle tickets, because suddenly it was time to get in the boats to warm up. I was told that instead of racing with the novice women (like the week prior), I would be a part of the co-ed boat, something we didn't have last time since not enough team members had made it to Mission Bay. 3 girls, 3 guys. We had not worked together before as a boat, but I was delighted by who was on the team: all strong, hard workers.

Then everything went wrong.

And yes, I mean everything. We pushed off over the mild shore break to assume our positions, getting ready to line up for the start. At first we were alone, but as other boats joined us the water became crowded. We were having to dodge canoes left and right and after a while a collision seemed inevitable. We hooked left sharply to avoid an incoming team, but they bumped us hard in the back and broke off a chunk of our tail.

Growling, our steersman stopped quickly and one of the officials sped over to check the integrity of our hull. With a roll of duct tape, they patched our now stubby backside up, saying "You should be okay as long as you don't huli."

The wind went out of our sails as we imagined the things we'd soon be hearing out of our coach's mouth. "It just means that now we have to win!" we said to one another jokingly. "You know, to temper the inevitable storm."

No worse for the wear, we joined the mens team on the start line. There were some jabs and semi-hostile remarks exchanged with nearby boats, as well as a few zingers for our club from the line supervisor with the megaphone. (I think he was making fun of our shirts, but I don't remember exactly.)

They announced 30 seconds, and everything turned serious. We assumed our positions, and when the horn blasted we took off strong. At least, the first couple seconds were strong. Almost immediately, we found ourselves in a tight spot. To our right, our mens team began drifting left, and to our left, another team was drifting right. Our amma was up against the right side team, and soon we were pinched in with nowhere to go. I didn't see what happened next, but eye witnesses report that the team to our left not only touched our amma, but hoisted it up and over.

We never had a chance.

With our amma up, we flipped and were cast into the frigid ocean. I had never huli'd before, and boy what a place to have it happen! The adrenaline from the race start and the shock of the cold water had me gasping for air, and a rock of despair hung in my stomach; this was the last way I expected this race to go. I was still holding onto my paddle, and the rest of my team members were quick to action. We gathered floating equipment and assumed our needed positions for righting the canoe. After we had it up, we clambered in and I started bailing. I somehow managed to pull a muscle in my lower back as I hoisted buckets of water out of our boat. (Doh.) Thankfully it didn't bother me much when I was paddling. We managed to get most of the water out quickly, though we still had 6 or so miles to go before we would be done.

"Let's get this over with," our steersman called. The fog was so dense we could hardly see the rest of the boats up ahead of us.

To say we were "upset" would be a vicious understatement.

We set to work, digging hard and steadily gaining on the stragglers ahead as the passion of pride, fury, and will coursed through our veins. Before we knew it, we were passing boats - lots of them. My heart was thundering as I realized this race was far from over. One after another after another, we were catching up to the pack. The adrenaline kicked in again, and this time it was good. We were tearing the field up from behind! We continued to negotiate our way through the masses, aiming for a visible bulk ahead of us. Again with the fog, we couldn't see the turn around buoy until we were nearly on top of it.

In my previous post, I mentioned "the glide" and how crucial it is to the speed of a team. Folks, we were flying. If Luke Skywalker ever made a hover craft for the water, I think it would feel like we did as we came around the turn and began working with the current.

Before long, I heard one of my teammates cry out, "There's the boat that flipped us!"

Sure enough, a familiar combination of colors was just ahead. I like to think they could feel all 12 of our searing eyes of vengeance on their faces as we passed them. (Since any sort of appropriate hand gesture would have interrupted our paddling.) As coach has told us before, there really are no two sweeter words in outrigger than "See ya!!"

Up and up the ranks we continued to climb, passing club after club, the shore drawing up on us quickly.

I heard our steersman whisper in amazement, "No way ..." Taking a brief glance forward, I realized what he was looking at: our men's crew, dead ahead.  "We caught the guys!" I gasped.

I couldn't believe it.

How many boats had we passed? Were we in the lead after all that? I tried not to think about it, and kicked myself into a new gear.  Our steersman rounded the final corner splendidly, cutting off a couple boats who had not managed to line themselves up correctly. Heading into the final straight away parallel to the shoreline, we were an arms length behind our mens team. Their steersman spotted us and we ran a delightfully sportsmanlike finish to the end.

What an incredible feeling.

After getting our boat safely ashore, my heart was in my throat and I wore an enormously stupid grin for the rest of the day. I wanted to hug anyone - everyone! Somewhere deep inside all of us, we knew we had done something awesome.

That inkling was confirmed later when the results were printed:

Ka Nai'a - FIRST PLACE COED.

Hell yeah!

(To the left here are Alli, Me, Christy, Bruno, Ari, and Kamika.)

Our spirits continued to soar throughout the day, and I'm guessing the thrill is still with them (because it's still with me) today.

Our coaches were beaming with pride. 

At practice the next morning, our head coach Mike pulled me aside and showed me the Ka Nai's "motto" (which I had never noticed before) posted on our gear box.

NEVER QUIT, NEVER GIVE UP.

"You guys lived it out on that course.  Way to go." (Fuzzy warm feelings ensued.)

Later on in the raffle give away, a ton of my co-workers took home a pile of the prizes, including the grand prize, a stand-up paddle board! I strapped it to the top of my Wrangler and drove it to my office so I could lay it across the desk of the winner: Rafael.

He was chuffed to bits all morning.

One heck of a fun day!