Yes the race was fun and tiring. Yes I was so covered in dirt that it took me FIVE hair washings in order to drag a brush through the tangles. Yes I probably upped the inevitable hip replacement surgery by five years. But what I didn’t expect (other than the ridiculous speckled tan lines all over my back) was that I learned a few lessons along the way too.
First off: enemies can’t stay enemies for very long if you are on the same team at a Tough Mudder. How do I know this? My sworn nemesis, and unexpected teammate, Joe, and I had to work together. He is stronger than I am. Faster than I am. And can swear in more languages than I can. This gave Joe the advantage in an obstacle race—especially one where you are required to work as a team. Unfortunately, Joe and I had stopped speaking to each other last June when I decided he was a “cocky asshole” and he declared me “a stuck up biatch” (fyi: these are both pretty truthful observations.)
Now, I am pretty sure I grunted a non-committal hello to Joe at the starting line, but I aligned myself with the other members of the team—perfectly content to ignore his existence for the remaining twelve miles. Of course, I forgot all about ignoring him at obstacle number 3 of 29… when he kicked mud in my face while low crawling under some barbwire. I responded the way every pissed off questionably sane Army Wife does… I forgot about the barbwire and mud, propelled myself forward, grabbed his shoe, and yanked it off. Hah! Nobody puts Baby in the Corner! I finished my crawl, stood up smiling, and thought to myself, “The only thing that would have made that moment more beautiful would be a conveniently placed cactus patch for me to launch that shoe into”
Of course, a good five minutes went by as Joe struggled to get his muddy shoe untied and back on his foot, and I realized we would never finish this race unless we somehow buried the hatchet. The asshole and the bitch were going to have to sign a peace treaty.
And we did. No words were exchanged. No witty comments were shared poking fun of the other (well, not out loud, at least…). And the next obstacle we encountered—a twelve foot wall—Joe’s hand was the one that helped haul me over. And that’s when it dawned on me. The Tough Mudder is just an extreme dirty version of life. It is going to hurt. You are going to have to face your fears. And sometimes the people you need to rely on, are the ones you swore you never would. That’s life. That’s the Tough Mudder. And for those who are wondering: we finished strong, bleeding, starving, and smiling!
Best race EVER!!!!!
Congrats. What an accomplishment!
ReplyDelete