When I made the decision to participate in the April Tough Mudder (www.toughmudder.com), I clung to that, sometimes frightening, magic that makes an athlete believe in the impossible and to my father's warnings when sports weren't always fun: If you quit this now, nothing stops you from quitting what follows. And I am no quitter. So, having no other options on Sunday, April 10, 2011 at 11:00AM, I kissed a mountain with the rest of "Team Cupcake."
Four hours, twelve miles and a few tears later, this is what I learned:
1. Eye black, off of a football field, can be quirky or sexy depending on the face and the slant of the line;
2. When race rules require your bib number to be written on your forehead and another body part of your choosing, in permanent marker, for identification, the task at hand is a little less "race" and a little more "life decision;"
3. Jogging up an uncovered bunny hill to the Tough Mudder Start Line was a spot-on indicator of things to come;
4. Chocolate is the only flavor power gel that's worth buying - believe it. This is not fatigue (or the mountain) talking. Chocolate: squeeze it into your mouth at the mid-point of your next long run, envision a sundae and keep moving;
5. Hot peppers at mile 5 of a 12 mile race (life decision): Ballsy move to eat this pepper, mid-stride. This runner declined. Another cupcake did not, under the "every obstacle" theory, and pounded the pepper. No regrets in either instance;
6. I am actually afraid of heights (recurring theme);
7. When you're jogging up a partially snow-covered black diamond, clawing at your teammates (and strangers), focused only on the next foothold and not causing a domino effect back down, it is completely appropriate to high-five the stranger who put both of his hands firmly on your backside and shoved you up the last 5 feet of the incline;
8. I would rather struggle up an incline that sucks the wind out of me than fly down the same decline without the ability to stop (control issues, much?);
9. When you take a leap off of a twelve-fifteen foot wall (or 4 of them), you better know who's waiting on the other side for the just-in-case, slap a smile on your face, greet the fear and then step on your teammate's leg, shoulder or somewhere in-between and get yourself over that wall;
10. Always make sure the last thing you look at before attempting #9 is true and steadfast enough to be the one thing you focus on while dangling by your broken finger nails from the top of that wall;
11. Long, tight running pants, preferably with a zipper pocket, are necessary for any mud run, no matter the temperature, for one simple reason: Where there is mud, there will be rocks. Rocks cut knees. Bloody knees are not cute 2 days post run and out of context;
12. When you have shirts that say "Moist Cupcake" and "Real Men Eat Cupcakes," it's probably better to stay together - again with the context;
13. While close spaces have been my achilles since [what my family refers to as] the "locker incident" of 1990, I felt an odd comfort by the amount of people meditating as they stood in line for the "Boa Constrictor" obstacle. [Side Note: After a 90 second wait, a brief prayer and a deep, soothing breath that would have made any yogi proud, the narrow, dark tunnel with a rocky bottom seemed almost manageable until I saw the water filling it up halfway.];
14. I love being a part of a team so much that, at 30 years old, these are the lengths I'm willing to go to for just a moment where I can look up, see familiar shirts and orient myself enough to keep moving with them;
15. While jumping off a 15-20 foot high plank into an icy lake may have scarred me for life, it surely will be one of those moments I call upon, twenty years from now, to remind me that trusting yourself enough to leap in the face of fear is a battle won and that I am pretty badass. [Side Note: To the force that won't let me hold on to the side of the railing, at this race and in life, I trust you will always be there to remind me to trust myself.]
16. Lakes are cold in April and when you jump into them from an (as yet) undetermined height, you sink fast, come up panicking and can't breath in easily because of the water temperature [read: this is what it feels like to drown.];
17. I take back every single time I thought (or said out loud) how ridiculous those metallic, tinfoil-esque blankets they give out at winter races are. Because, they're pretty amazing when combined with the heat of bodies wrapped around portable heaters in a "warming tent;"
18. I didn't immediately realize I was crying as I crawled out of the lake and, even now, I'm not sure I fully grasp the enormity of that moment;
19. After snapping my left ankle on a rocky trail in the middle of the woods, recovering, snapping it worse in the middle of the "muddy mile," panicking about a serious injury, skipping 3 obstacles and hobbling up and down and up and down and up and down, through fire, and up and down and back up, all with a steadied path and rocks kicked out from where I was walking, I was humbled by kindness and truly did not regret my decision to be there, in that moment; and
20. Crossing a finish line four hours after anything begins is a triumph - adding people like the ones that carried me across made it a moment I will never forget.
And so, with my fuzzy orange mudder headband, Dos Equis in hand, I walked barefoot with my team, across a parking lot, through a hotel lobby and bee-lined a hot shower and mountain-view hot tub. Five hours after I went off the grid, the blood was gone, the jets were at my back and I was shoving guilt-free pretzels and coconut M&M's into my mouth. I was beaten, scratched, sore and wondering when I would be rid of the muddy hugh to my otherwise red hair, but I was back on top of my game; healed up, injury free and ready for action. Team.
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