Tough Mudder: Crawl Toward the Light
I am now two months into my marathon training. No, I am not running a marathon, that would be silly. I am going to run a Tough Mudder. Possibly even twice in one day. It was my little brother’s idea. He’s a marine. Marines live life with the philosophy that the hard way is the only way. I tend to live life with the philosophy that the easy way has ice cream. I might die.
For those who may be unfamiliar with the Tough Mudder event, this is what the official web site says:
“Tough Mudder is a team-oriented 10-12 mile (18-20 km) obstacle course designed to test physical strength and mental grit. Tough Mudder puts camaraderie over finisher rankings and is not a timed race but a team challenge that allows participants to experience exhilarating, yet safe, world-class obstacles they won't find anywhere else.”
As someone who has run four of them so far, I can tell you what it really is: a place where young, fit people gather to impress each other with feats of strength and endurance, as well as a place where past-their-prime fools come to prove to themselves that they still have something left in the tank. I fall squarely into the latter category. Curiously, there are also those who think it is the perfect place to wear a Halloween costume, which greatly enhances the entertainment value for those spectators who have come to watch members of their family die on the field of battle. (No joke. Participants must sign something known as a “death waiver.”)
Actual course design will vary depending on location. Participants are not allowed to know the layout or obstacle list until just a few days before the event to ensure that no one can train for specific challenges only. Not that it would matter. You could train to be able to do one hundred pull-ups and it would do you no good because by the time you can use that skill on the course you are completely exhausted. There are a few obstacles that are guaranteed to be at every location. Course designers have assigned what they believe to be clever names to each of them. Having experienced them all, I will share my secrets to surviving a few of these sadistic torture devices, which have been updated to 2.0 for 2015.
Arctic Enema 2.0: A giant trash dumpster is lined with plastic and filled ice cubes and topped off with water. A wooden divider is placed in the middle, rising about a foot above the water line. A semi trailer loaded with bags of ice is kept on hand to maintain extremity-shrinking temperatures. (34 degrees on average.) Entry into the obstacle is made by way of a slide that is covered by a section of chain-link fencing, forcing you to lay down. The idea is to slide in, help your teammates over the wall in the middle, and hop out of the other side. What actually happens is that as soon as you hit the water, the cold hits you back with a sucker punch to the gut. At this point all cognitive functions cease and you find you can leap over the wall and other participants using nothing more than your toes. When you make it out, be sure to take some time to apologize for any clawing, kicking, or drowning you may or may not have taken part in during the frothy melee.
Funky Monkey 2.0: A steel A-frame structure is set up with multiple rows of monkey bars ascending up one half, and corresponding straight pipes descending the other side. Between the two, at the apex of the structure, is a horizontal bar that hangs just close enough to grab, and then swings and stops just short of the straight pipe. The whole thing is set up over a chest deep water pit. (Warning: the bars are often sprayed with cooking oil. Jerks.) Mechanically, it is easy to figure out the procedure. Realistically, unless you do a lot of pull-ups, its nothing like when you were a kid. If you hit heavy oil, you’re going for a dip. Just be grateful for the chance to wash off the mud. If you’re lucky enough to follow behind the poor saps who rubbed off all the oil for you, then speed is your friend. (Mainly because grip strength is your enemy.) Tough Mudder personnel will tell you not to swing more than once on the transition bar, if your arms haven’t popped out of their sockets by that point, so get your swing going before then. Grab the bar on your back-swing, and be prepared to follow through and grab the straight pipe after the jerking halt of the transition. The straight pipe is larger and more difficult to hold on to, so feel free to swing, shimmy, and bicycle kick your way down to solid ground. Few make it all the way across.
King of Swingers: Originally called Walk the Plank, a platform is built at least fifteen feet above a water hole. All you had to do was step off when the lifeguard told you to, and then swim to the edge and climb out. Now there is additional structure involving a metal swinging T-bar and a bell on a rope. The idea is to jump out to grab the T-bar, swing forward, reach out to hit the bell, and then fall the fifteen feet into the water and swim out. Heightened people like myself have an advantage here. Our wingspan puts the bell well within reach. Others must let go of the T-bar and flail in the general direction of the shiny bell, and follow with a spectacularly painful looking water landing. Spectator satisfaction is very high on this obstacle. Practice grabbing your nose mid-flail, or you're bound to inhale mystery fluid.
Mud Mile 2.0: It might not be a mile long, but it sure feels like it. A series of trenches about six feet deep are filled with chest deep water. The goal is to climb from mud hole to mud hole until you’ve traversed the entire length. You will not be able to do this alone. Help and get help from people around you. (Warning: this is an extremely likely place to have your calf muscles cramp. Mine have twice. Try not to jump!) Your knees could get scraped up on this obstacle, but fight the urge to wear knee pads. They look stupid. Unless its part of your costume, in which case you’re supposed to look that way.
Everest 2.0: You know those big half pipes that skateboarders do their big tricks on? Take half of one of those and cover it with oil and mud, and you’ve got Everest. This year they made it taller and took away the lip so that there’s nothing to grab on to. This obstacle is always near the end of the course, when complete exhaustion has set in. Ignore the young kids who scamper up with no trouble. They are actually little bird people with hollow bones. Your goal is to aim for the huge guy reaching his unnaturally huge arm toward you. He comes in different shapes and sizes, but he's always there. If you can make it to his hand, the next step is to swing a foot up high enough for someone else to grab. Then just hang on as your dead weight is hauled unceremoniously over the edge. Then turn around to do the same for the next person, if your noodle arms still work. Its not pretty, but you’re covered with mud and no one will recognize you anyway.
Electroshock Therapy 2.0: The last obstacle you encounter will always be Electroshock Therapy. Wooden framework supports hundreds of dangling exposed wires, each carrying 10,000 volts of electricity, plus “hot zones” that carry 15,000 volts. There will be ankle deep mud and short hay bale walls to get over, as well as some guy with a microphone commentating and spraying you with a hose. The faster you get through, the fewer times you will get zapped, but too fast and you will hit the ground harder when your entire body locks up from the shock. If you’ve touched an electrified fence on a farm, then you’ve sort of felt what its like. Your main goal is to protect your head. Getting shocked in the cranium results in what Tough Mudders call “brain reboot.” It happened to me. One minute you’re running through wires, the next you’re picking yourself up off the ground with no memory of falling. Protect your head! Other than that just concentrate on keeping your footing. Falling just puts your head by the exposed wires. When you make it to the other side you can hold your head up, (with your hands if necessary), and have the coveted orange headband placed on your noggin.
Mudders who have participated in more than one event are considered part of the Mudder’s Legion. And Legionnaires get a few extra benefits like extra obstacles, the right to bypass Electroshock Therapy, and the option to get in line for another round. Be sure to bring trusted family members to cheer you on and document your demise. If all that and more sounds like something you’re willing to pay money to experience, then I welcome you as a sibling on the course! Unless you’re one of those young, fit people, in which case I would ask that you not step on my carcass as you skitter past. And don’t laugh, I might be on my second lap.