the idea of doing the dirty girl was just too much for two people to bear. we needed to build a team if for nothing else than support and fun. we went on a recruiting spree, and much to our surprise, every friend we asked jumped on board within thirty seconds. how amazing was that??? we met for “training sessions,” which, truth be told, involved drinks. we contemplated the more serious aspects of the dirty girl. you know, things like the very important team name and logo. it’s amazing what a bunch of creative women can come up with -- and then goggle and whittle down after learning some phases had questionable connotations. just a heads up that googling “women,” “dirty,” and “mud” in any way, shape, or form produces search results that could make you blush. in the end, team mudlife crisis was born and was followed by the “watch us get dirty” tag line complete with a cutie drinking a dirty martini. very appropriate on so many levels!
we were signed up for months, and at least once a week one of us would ask another, “so, have you been training for the dirty girl”? during these conversations, we were talking about actual training as opposed to training/drinking. no matter who asked who, the answer was the same, “not so much” followed by a half-hearted chuckle. i started a running program and was doing great until a vacation in july. that break of no running blew my routine, and i was starting to get more than a bit nervous. i’ve long since learned my days of walking out the door with no preparation and running a race were o.v.e.r. the added benefit of having to overcome obstacles was daunting, but the idea of being with my friends tackling these stations seemed kind of exciting.
with what seemed like a blink, the dirty girl was upon us. driving to the run, windows down, singing every classic rock song that came on the radio at the top of our lungs was a riot. all of a sudden, we saw a line of cars in the distance. the venue was literally a farm . . . acres and acres of land . . . with a line of cars miles long. it reminded me of “field of dreams,” and the “if you build it, they will come” line. they built it, and 4,500 women were on their way. it was a beautiful sunny day with temperatures in the 70s by 10:00. what struck me immediately was how incredibly friendly the women were. it was as if each group knew the other and had been long lost friends. i was hugged by strangers, but it didn’t seem strange. i happily took pictures of other teams, and they did the same for us. i re-stuck logos on shirts and shorts and fluffed tutus. creative team names seem to strike up easy conversations. in fact, teams from earlier waves were chatting it up with us and telling us about the course and the obstacles, as well as giving us advice. one team, in particular, told us, “whatever you do, don't avoid the mud, and you’ll have the best time.” i was thinking to myself, “who does a mud run and tries to avoid the mud”?
our wave started with a bang . . . and katy perry’s “firework” blaring. the first obstacle ahead of us was the “barn burner,” which was the hay bale climb. jeesh that climb was high and mighty prickly. we all were pumped once we got to the other side. we ran to the next obstacle, which was the “h2omg water pit.” the water was shocking and refreshing at the same time. we started with the “going on a bear hunt” lines and decided we just had to go through it . . . and so we did. never having run in totally drenched sneakers and socks before, i had no idea what to expect. after the first water obstacle is when i started to wonder if the blogs recommending duck taping your sneakers to your ankles so that your sneakers didn’t get left in the mud or my friend’s clever husband saying we should run in hiking boots would have been a wise choice. the run after the water was something like a squelch with every step down and a sucking noise with every step up. somewhere headed to the third obstacle is when i had to go to the bathroom, which made the “tire pump” and “utopian tubes” (tunnel crawl) obstacles less than fun. once i realized the corn field wasn’t going to provide me any relief (thanks to cowboys on horseback roaming and my performance issues in front of people), we headed towards “the hangover” (swinging tires). i have to say, weaving through dangling tires hurt when they bonked you on the head bunches of times. after another quarter mile, we came to a mud pit with a catchy name i can’t recall, but we had the best time splashing, throwing mud . . . and, then subsequently hugging random people, who were far too clean. (these were the above-mentioned people, who managed to participate in a mud run and not get dirty. i like to think they were happy for the mud hugs because they got to cross the finish line and look a bit filthy without having to trapes through mud puddles, which, clearly, they were avoiding. they could have been annoyed, too, but we went on our merry way.) “one ugly mudder,” which was scaling and then descending a mud hill a la a slip and slide was next. you climbed up the mushy hill using a wet, muddy, slimy rope, which, as some team mudlife crisis members learned the hard way, became a wedgie-inducing device when the person at the top of the hill tried to help and jerked the rope too hard. yikes! you could get down the hill any way your heart desired. i opted to go down on my belly, and i’m still not sure that was the best choice. as i started out, the oh so kind man at the top, who was spraying the hill with water, hollered after me, “watch out for the tree root sticking up over there.” seriously??? did i not have enough going on to then also think about becoming impaled on a root? more running brought us to the “just get over it” wall climb. i was dreading this climb, but i knew it was tiered, so i didn’t have to go over the highest point. once we got there though, there was no way i wasn’t going straight up the middle. it was challenging, but in a good way, and once i was on the other side, i was feeling kind of proud. at this point, we realized there were only a few obstacles left, and the run was almost over, and that gave me, at least, a little burst of energy. we tackled the “pms - pretty muddy stuff” mud crawl next, and that was just gross. crawling under a low net with my face closer than i would like to the ground was stinky (literally and figuratively). then, in the not so distant distance was the final obstacle . . . the “get a grip” cargo net climb. from what i had read, this was the obstacle most people dreaded, but i wasn’t sure why . . . until i got closer. it was shaped like a tent and was fairly high. climbing up didn’t bother me, but the turn to go down did. plus, whereas other obstacles did not have a backlog of people, this one did. there were women everywhere, and trying to make sure your fingers did not get stepped on while not nudging someone in front of you was an effort. we hugged and high fived when we all were on the other side and made a run for the finish line while holding hands - complete with smiles and teeth full of dirt.
we all were covered head to toe in filth. there was wet dirt. there was dry, crackly dirty. there were pebbles, dirt balls, dried dirt crumbs, and hay stuck between my toes, buried in my hair, and literally every conceivable place in between -- and i wouldn’t have had it any other way. the team who told us not to avoid the mud and to have a blast was right. this wasn’t just about the run or the obstacles. in order to fully enjoy the day, you had to jump in every possible way. i’m happy to say the only injury i got was a knot on my leg courtesy of the porta potty even before the race began - and, really, i suppose that’s not much of a surprise, is it?
the dirty girl truly had a feeling of camaraderie. it wasn’t individual teams participating. rather, it was a bunch of women, who happened to be with different groups, participating together and cheering each other on. these women were not running from the obstacles; rather, they were running towards them, which was truly amazing. as for my team, there was no one more fortunate than me to be surrounded by such incredible friends. kim kept me motivated and circled like a sheepdog to make sure we all were ok even when she clearly could have run the course three times to my one. (and when she hollered to run and give it our all at the end, she knew we could do it.) anita could make me laugh in a minute, shouting “slavic fest,” which became our race-friendly curse word - and she was also was my angel since she spied a porta potty at mile two, which i thought had to be a mirage. sherri encouraged me at every point and made me feel incredible. (little does she know that she’s way more incredible than i could ever hope to be.) and then there was christy, my 44 friend for just about every thing so far . . . what can i say except she inspires me to achieve more, and, really, isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? plus, she also mutters the obscenities i’m usually thinking (and not the race-friendly kind either).
two days and seven q-tips per ear later, i am almost dirt free. however, the memories of this 44 thing will be with me forever.
team mudlife crisis - 2011
on to thing 15 . . .
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