WOULD I do Tough Mudder again? Yes. WILL I do Tough Mudder again? I dunno. I equate it to having your second baby (I haven’t had any babies, so this is based on what I’ve heard) – by the time you decide to have the second one, the pain from the first one is forgotten. Maybe in a few days, weeks…more like months, I will have forgotten the pain, bruises, and Arctic Enema from last Saturday. However, right now…I’m good with knowing I did it once in my life.
– Tough Mudder raises a ton of money for the Wounded Warrior Project. So many servicemen come home missing arms, legs, and peace of mind. As a first generation American, whose father fought in Vietnam for my citizenship, I have nothing but respect for those who serve our country. That’s a sacrifice most folks aren’t willing to take, nor can they understand. [Salute]
– EVERYONE on that course was dedicated to EVERYONE finishing that course. The last time I experienced that type of comradarie was back in my ROTC days, at Penn State. Folks I didn’t know from a can of peas, were helping me up walls, over hay stacks, through trenches – without me even asking. [Salute]
– TRAFFIC!! We sat in traffic for almost 3 hours just to get a parking space. Ugh! Tough Mudder sent apology emails and promised a discount on our next event. Ummm…I woulda much preferred a little refund cause I don’t know if I want a discount on the cost of future pain.
– The Port-o-Pottie!! Okay…I know…it’s a port-o-pottie. I shouldn’t have high expectations. However, there was no toilet paper and I couldn’t tell the difference between poo and mud. I contemplated holding my pee until I got to a really muddy obstacle. It was that bad.
– Lack-o-Snacks!! Seriously, there were like 5 water stations throughout the 10.5 mile course. The first one only had water. The second had water and bananas…which you had to figure out how to peel without getting too much mud on it (eventually, I said screw it and ate a muddy banana…that actually sounds like the name of a yummy, frozen drink). The third had water and electrolyte chews (This was my favorite stop – I ate 2 packs of chews. #
fatfitgirl). The fourth, we were back to the water and bananas. I kept running past the others, cause it started to STORM. Note: I did not say drizzle, rain, or pour – I SAID STORM! At the end of the race, they gave us beer (I passed) and more (wet by the storm) bananas. All that cash and a sistah couldn’t get a bagel?! Damn!
– I literally had mud EVERYWHERE. When I spread my buttcheeks in the shower, a small, white tag fell out. I’m not sure where the tag came from, nor when it decided to lodge in my arse. I’m just happy it washed out. For those curious folks, it said size “small.”
– There was mud in all orifices of my body…ears, belly button, vagina. Four days later, I’m still finding remnants.
I came. I saw. I got mud in my vagina.