Last weekend I ran the Tri State Tough Mudder in Englishtown, NJ. It was the first race of my life and probably not the best way to ease into racing, but once I had registered it was too late. On its homepage, the Tough Mudder is described as follows:
"Tough Mudder is not your average lame-ass mud run or spirit-crushing ‘endurance’ road race. It’s Ironman meets Burning Man, and it is coming to a city near you. Our 7-12 mile obstacle courses are designed by British Special Forces to test all around strength, stamina, mental grit, and camaraderie. Forget finish times. Simply completing a Tough Mudder is a badge of honor. All Tough Mudder sponsorship proceeds go to the Wounded Warrior Project."
I ran the Tough Mudder as a 4 man team with two high school buddies and one of their college buddies, including:
Will - The Team Captain and Navy SEAL in training. He runs Ironmans as a cool down from his real workouts. It is rumored that he once ran the entire length of the Grand Canyon in fifteen minutes.
Mike - Seen here sniping unwanted cats, Mike is a weightlifter and another man of the military that informed us race day that he didn't start running until 7 days prior.
Sean - The unbreakable Polack who trained with me to prep for the race. He also loves pain almost as much as trees.
The journey starts inside of the awkwardly silent Toyota Prius on rt 4 north, destination: Jersey, baby. Snookie was not seen, although she was smelled briefly on the turnpike. After about 300 miles and $0.16 in gas money we arrived at our friend Christy's to stuff ourselves with gluttonous amounts of whole wheat pasta and begin the pre race slumber. Unfortunately for me, I couldn't sleep. So I stared at the ceiling for about 7 hours until everyone started getting up at about 6:00 A.M. After a light breakfast we all jumped in Christy's SUV, which spent all the gas we saved in the Prius in about 10 miles, and headed for Englishtown, about 25 miles from where we were.
We get out for a stretch in the parking lot. I've already been up for 24 hours and now a little wired from the 5 Hour Energy I just drank to take the fog away. Even less to my advantage, I realize I am wearing a pair of blinding white K-Swiss tennis shoes. I will later find I am quite possibly the only person in this entire race without a bad-ass pair of running shoes. A frigid northern wind is sweeping through the lot, biting our noses and ears. I look around the parking lot to see what look like members of SEAL team 6 stretching and lacing up. I am later relieved to realize that not all the race runners will look like the Expendables. These guys were the Mudder Elites, running this race for time and trying to qualify for World's Toughest Mudder, the 50 mile version of this 12 mile race. As we approach the registration booth, a woman on a megaphone is repeating "come sign your death waver here, you cannot register until you sign the death waver".
We all sign our lives away, get our paperwork, get our race numbers and I meet a couple of in line behind us that tell me they were up all night drinking and bar hopping and their friend flying in from Nevada might not even be registered. I suddenly feel less tired and less worried. We start our warm up run.
The air temp is about 38*F with the wind chill, but the cold air will soon be the least of our worries.
November 20, 2010. 9:40 A.M. We are tightly pakced at the starting line, which lies in the middle of an empty football stadium. We are in a mob of fellow runners, some with war paint, some in costume, all gritting teeth and clenched hands. A very enthusiastic man is guiding us through the Tough Mudder creed on a megaphone,
"As a Tough Mudder I pledge that…
* I understand that Tough Mudder is not a race but a challenge.
* I put teamwork and camaraderie before my course time.
* I do not whine – kids whine.
* I help my fellow Mudders complete the course.
* I overcome all fears."
Sounds great. My heart it pounding, my legs are coiled springs ready to run the length of the earth. Silence.
Then an air horn goes off, they throw a smoke bomb into the middle of the crowd and everyone madly sprints towards a monster truck that floors it though the first stretch of track. As we leave the obnoxiously sticky rubber track in the stadium we see several friendly reminders:
So we were off, establishing pace at mile one, and seeing fellow racers who had left earlier coming the opposite way on the track next to us yelling "It's not too late to turn back! Quit now while you still can! You WILL die!". Quite encouraging. After a good 1.5 miles we cross a pair of ropes tied taught over a river. No problem. We all get through easily and then come to a tall wooden platform with a rope. We climb up to see that there's nothing but a drop. And water. Dozens of other racers are jumping in, so without too much thought I plunge in, right next to a guy dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.
When I hit the water, my body instinctively panics. Instant loss of breath, my skin is burning and my mind screams repeatedly "GET THE F#&^ OUT OF THIS WATER!! Im sure this is what most people were going through. To say it was cold is laughable. This water felt like absolute zero. People are being pulled out left and right by life guards and medical personal. Some people hit the water and instantly panic. One man, upon impact, goes into shock and is rushed to a nearby hospital. Water temp at the time is about 35* fahrenheit. About 10 minutes until hypothermia begins in this kind of water. This was no longer a nice jog in a cold morning New Jersey. The real race had begun. Move forward or die. Everyone, including myself, is scrambling as fast as our quickly numbing bodies allow only to find an obstacle in the water itself. Pairs of barrels blocking the way out. Can't climb over. Are you kidding? I take in a deep breath and go under. All the noises and screams of racers are muted by the water. Complete darkness. The water is so murky not even the slightest hint of light shines through to help guide the way around. The ice cold water is a piercing every inch of my face and body. Im frantically trying to feel my way to the opening and my breath is almost out after only a few seconds. I blindly take a guess and attempt to surface. My God, breathing air never felt so good. I have to do this twice more before Im out of the water.
I can hear Sean and a dozen other random Mudders screaming profanities over my own for a moment. He soon comes running out of the water, steaming and shivering with the rest of the team. Laughing at how absurdly cold the water was, we are off again. We have to trek through the water again before the water obstacles are over. Getting out the second time feels like my skin is coming off of my bones with each step. The 38 degree air felt like a warm afternoon on a California beach after getting out of the water. The course had many spots that almost overlapped itself, so we could see people who were earlier on and further ahead in the race at certain times.
It was easy to tell who had and hadn't gone in the water yet, not even by seeing who was soaked and who wasn't,
but by who was laughing and cheerful and excited
and who looked like they just left a concentration camp.
After that water, every Mudder's game faces were on. We climbed over and under cargo nets,
Ran at least three miles through waist high mud, hills, and turns
Slammed ourselves up and over walls
Climbed through cramped wooden piping lined with jagged rocks
Had to carry a car tire a half mile and then immediately run through field's worth of kerosene-soaked hay, flaming and smoking as much as the inside of a burning building.
Oh and lets not forget the 'suprise obstacle' that wasn't revealed until we were at the starting line. This last little gem was a roughly 20 square foot wooden frame with electrified wire dangling from the top, effectively named "The Jellyfish". What did it feel like? This gives you a little bit of an idea.
Then we see it. The home stretch. Right back where we started. My water-logged K-Swiss felt like Looney Tunes prison shackles with the cannonball attached. We joined arms and took one last sprint through the finish, to a massive and welcoming crowd.
After a brutal 12.09 miles, covered in mud, legs heavy, body shaking from the stress of the race and the extreme temperatures we all rushed to the post-race concessions where we ravenously ate the free energy bars, bananas and muscle-milks.
Immediately after finishing, Will went to the information booth to talk to the registrar. He had already paid for two days and since we weren't going to be in Jersey the next day like we had initially planned, he decided he was just going to get his money's worth by running the entire race over again the same day. But to raise the stakes, he grabs a 25lb kettle bell and begins the entire run over again!
Thats pretty damn tough. My hat goes off to you Will and all you other guys and gals who were carrying 30lb chains, rucksacks filled with weights and you crazy mofo's who dressed in full on suit and ties, briefcases included. The best part of the race was the overall sense of camaraderie. I saw people sacrificing race time to help strangers, groups forming human chains to pull competitors up huge mud covered hills and people pulling down the cargo net so everyone else could just jump over. Thats teamwork.
You don't see that much on the streets, but if there is a place to help that "every man is my brother" mentality, the Tough Mudder is the place where it starts.
We all were rewarded with orange Tough Mudder headbands, shirts and free Dogfish Head Beer. It was one hell of a race and I have nothing but respect for each and every one of you fellow Tough Mudders. Good racing, and I'm looking forward to seeing some of you in either PA or VT.
Dylan
