Tough Mudder, Part Two

Once again, I am a BAMF. (if you 're not sure what that means, think back to SHAFT). I, along with 5 other bad asses, ran the Tough Mudder Mid Atlantic 2013 held at what seemed like the highest point in West Virginia this past Saturday. The scenery was absolutely breathtaking and I probably would've enjoyed it much more if I wasn't bleeding, crampy, bruised, achy, tired and dying to finish this trek.

The few, the proud, the Fossils. Pre-dirt.

If you didn't know it, this wasn't my first time at this rodeo. I ran the Tough Mudder last August with an equally insane group of folks. We continued the Team Fossil tradition and made it to the finish with only one testicle being lost. (not mine, rest assured). Last year I face planted into the Dirty Ballerina, and luckily for me, we didn't have this obstacle this year. However, we DID have the Cage Crawl, which is a cold water filled muddy pit covered by fencing. You literally get into the dirty, cold pool and with your face about 6" from the fencing, you pull yourself through the mud/water without being able to see how far you've gone or how much farther you have to go. We had quite a delay here because one of the participants had her pinky impaled by the tip of the fencing as she was exiting. While we waited, our fearless photographer, West, captured this image of me.

Ew, I think I have some dirt under my nail! Wait, that's not dirt!

This picture just cracks me up. I know it's blurry but the look on my face (as I am completely covered in mud and probably cow-shit, among other things) is hilarious to me. I'm dirty, I'm smelly, I have mud caked into places NO woman should EVER have mud, and yet I'm picking something dirty off of my hand. I dunno, maybe it's just me. By this point in the race I was delirious from all the effing hills we had to climb.

We once again faced the Arctic Enema, only this year I was better prepared. This year I KNEW how shocked my body was going to be. It didn't make it any easier to get through, but it DID make it easier for my fake husband who was once again behind me. Last year, I froze, literally, in front of him. When I turned to express my shock to him, in slow motion I saw him mouth the word: "MOOOOOVVVEEE!!!!" This year, I moved without prompting from him. I swam under the board in the middle of the pool of ice water, and swam to the end. And bless you sweet baby Jesus there was a ladder at the end this year. Last year, Joseph had to literally catapult me out of the pool and thankfully my teammate Keith was there to save my life. This year I very easily (and pretty damned quickly) climbed out by myself.

We faced several of the same obstacles as last year, and some new obstacles that kicked our asses, just as climbing the hills did. There were giant  hills to climb, and once we scaled the hills, we had to descend them and do pushups. We ascended the next hill, ascended that one and had to do lunges. What the hell kind of sick, torturous mind comes UP with these things??  I should make my KIDS do these things when they miss the bus!

Or subject them to Electroshock Therapy, which is the last obstacle we faced before running up YET ANOTHER damned hill to get to the finish line. This is probably one of my favorite pics that West took, because we made it to the end, no one died, no one lost any limbs (other than that testicle one of us left back at the Berlin Wall) and we all just uttered a gutteral scream of relief.

Crazy shocked Fossils.

 At the finish line, sporting our Tough Mudder headbands (you get this instead of a medal. Go ahead, be jealous) and heading for the free beer, we once again leaned on one another as we did through the 11 miles of dirt, hills, hell, ice water and dirt.

Bring on the beer!

Below is probably, by far, my favorite group picture in the lot. This is what Tough Mudder is all about. You help your team, you help others, others help you. Here is a shot of the 6 of us. I'm in the middle struggling to get my fat ass up that damned hill, my teammates are above me and below me helping, as is another nameless Mudder there grabbing my hand, pulling me to the top of the hill.

Dear God, please get me up this damned hill.

This is what it's all about. And I've completed this thing twice. Next year, I'm going to volunteer. I may not get as dirty or as bruised, but I'll be able to help give to those other Mudders who have gotten me through the past two Tough Mudders I've run.