I have officially completed the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. While most of you were starting off your Spring Breaks on the beach with margaritas, the Hard Knox Tough Mudder team was starting it off the hard way. This means I was running through 12.4 miles of red Georgia clay to help benefit the Wounded Warrior Project. Designed by the British Special Forces, this race is one of the toughest events on the planet and according to Tough Mudder officials, the Georgia event we ran was the hardest one yet. Only 71% of that days participants finished. And I am so proud to say me and my UTK girls are part of that 71%!
At race time, we were standing in the starting line when the announcer told us that this race was a 95% male event, and so only 5% of the participants were female. He also said you would go through all the stages of grief throughout the race: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Of course, we all thought he was just joking, because he also told us that the reason we had our foreheads, calves, and arms marked with our number was so if we were found dead in a ditch they could notify our next of kin. Hah. Good joke, right?
It wasn’t a joke.
I went through Denial during our first round of obstacles. After the Braveheart charge through the trail, we hit a pit of ice cold water. Normally you would think that would feel good but it was beyond freezing. Literally, the water took my breath away, and there was no footing. I nearly drowned. As I got out and realized you had to plunge in again, I thought, “No way, no WAY.” The second obstacle, Boa Constrictor, was crawling through black pipes filled with mud. At first I thought there was nothing hard about that, and then I got in and felt the ice. Not only was it freezing cold and you plunged into MORE pits of mud, but the ice and gravel cut your hands and knees. The next obstacle was The Smokehouse. A house with small windows and smoke pouring out with, you guessed it, MORE mud pits and ice. So not only could you not see, you couldn’t get your footing.
The next obstacles were army crawling through mud, and crawling up a steep hill underneath a cargo net with just mud as your grip (I kicked a guy in the face by an accident). After that, came the true challenge. At home, we thought the obstacles were going to be the hardest part. Little did we know that we were about to trail run for 4 miles of woods and steep hills with no water in sight. This is where Anger stepped in for me and most of the other Mudders on the trail. It zigzagged up the mountain and every time you thought you were done, you had yet another hill to sprint up and down. The only sounds were that of people breathing and cursing themselves for even signing up for this event. Great little nature hike, right?
By this time most of the team had split, our girls who were beasting it up the course to get a good time – shout out to Abby who ran almost the entire course – were somewhere ahead of us. I was somewhere in the middle and I finally made it to a water station which was out of cups. So in the spirit of Tough Mudder, and because we were so thirsty, we were all drinking out of trash cans full of water lined with bags, and pitchers that were passed around between each Mudder. If that isn’t bonding, I don’t know what is, but I was so thirsty by that point that I could care less if I was drinking after someone I didn’t know. I’m pretty sure every participant was humbled by the shock of the first obstacles and the only thing on anyone’s minds was finishing, teamwork, and hydration. Teamwork is what has stuck with me most about this race. No one was cocky, no one was snobby, and everyone helped everyone else. If we passed a team, we yelled out encouragement to them, if a team passed us they would say keep it up. It was like the race was one big team of people, not separate.
Now everyone was Bargaining. We heard people talking about how if they finished this race, they would never think anything was hard ever again and how they would treat themselves to whatever food they wanted. I promised myself that if I finished, I would never believe people when they said I couldn’t do anything. I was also promising myself a pitcher of beer and a big juicy burger, but that’s beside the point.
By the time we got to our second lap, I was going through Depression. Were they serious when they said we had to go through ALL the obstacles again? That was 3-4 more miles of pure hell only to be rewarded by electric shock at the end. I had stopped running long ago at this point, and was trudging along with Kathryn, literally only thinking about putting one foot in front of the other. I was dehydrated, hot, the dried mud was pulling on my skin, my shirt was ripped and falling off, and I was seriously considering just giving up my right to be called a Tough Mudder. Kathryn, on the other hand, seemed like a bundle of energy to me. Even though she was tired, she kept on walking, so I kept on alongside her.
I only reached Acceptance at the very end of the race. After we had attempted Funky Monkey, fallen off the beam on Twinkle Toes, run through Fire Walker, Walked the Plank, and reached the Electroshock Therapy obstacle. The girl in front of us had just run through all of the 10,000 volt live wires in front of us, and been knocked down by the shock. She couldn’t get up and she was screaming as the wires kept shocking her. Kathryn and I looked at each other as we stood there dripping water and said, “Oh HELL no, there is no way we’re doing this.” The Finish Line, however, was just across the obstacle. After running nearly 13 miles, I darn well wanted to finish that race and get my t-shirt and headband that proclaimed I WAS tough enough. (By the way, the race also turns you into a sailor. I don’t think I’ve ever cursed so much). So, I steeled myself, accepted that I would have to run through these wires to get to the end, and ran like hell.
Just like someone who couldn’t cry at a funeral of a loved one until they had gone through all the stages, I cried when I went through that finish line. In order to preserve some dignity I feel obliged to say it wasn’t that much, but I did tear up. In contrast to grief however, I was crying because I had finished something. I had set a goal and completed it, regardless of what other people tried to tell me I could do. We ran almost 13 miles through mud, through fire, through smoke, with little water, no food, and in massive amounts of pain. For a girl who has had a hard time setting goals and who has taken nay-saying to heart more than she should, this was definitely a milestone for me. As our (really hot) announcer put the headband on Kathryn and I, he said we were tough mudder princesses, and in truth it was one of the few times I’ve ever felt that proud.
I then proceeded to scarf down one of the best protein bars I’ve ever had in my life, and it was Heaven in a wrapper.
Photos provided by our awesome photographer and team supporter Gentry Whittaker!
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.
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BTW: A few enterprising mudders attached head-cams to themselves and this is a video of our actual race and course from Georgia.