Tags: On Life and Love, racing, running, The Physical Matters, weight lifting
The Warrior Dash was terrible. It hurt, it was embarrassing, it was gross, it was filthy, and it was wet.
I think this is where I’m supposed to swoon and say I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Screw that. Maybe in a year, once I’ve properly trained up and can do 25 weighted pull ups with only my bad arm, but going in after a month of not training was 10 kinds of shenanigans.
I flipped the hell out on the first obstacle. Seriously. A measly balance beam took me minutes to cross. I was so embarrassed (and terrified) that I burst into tears afterward getting down. I really don’t like having my feet off the ground.
Once my pride was thoroughly out of the way, the rest was both easier and harder. The running was straightforward, although I could have used more stamina overall. I clambered up a slanted wall with rope easily, but skipped two straight walls on account of my shoulder. Every yoink on the rope wrenched at my shoulder, and it totally wasn’t worth a months’ long setback to climb two walls.
Plus, I’d already had all the one-on-one time with heights that I wanted, thank you.
The rest was bullshit, but didn’t trigger much terror for me. I even handled being kicked during the water escapade rather well. That consisted of a muddy “lake” with a ring of floating plastic cases/boxes in it. You swam out, climbed over one edge of the ring, swam through the center, climbed over the opposite side of the ring, then swam out. The water was at least 6 feet deep, because I ended up dunked a few times and never touched bottom.
That was obstacle 9 or 10, I think, and by the time I got to the center, I had run out of upper-body strength to heave myself over the second set of boxes. I’d also swallowed cups of this icky water, and been pushed, splashed on, and kicked by others who were climbing.
With some help, I got over to the other side and swam on out. I found the swimming easy, but Deana’s later mention of me “paddling along” (with doggy paddle motions) suggests that I may not have this breaststroke thing down very well after all.
I have no pictures of us before the race because I was sleepy, and none during and after because I wouldn’t let a camera or phone near that much mud unless it were already in its death throes.
And we did, in fact, swim and crawl through pools of mud.
All in all, I was quite disappointed (but not surprised) by my performance. Part of me still thinks I should have stayed in bed that morning, but the rest of me is trying to plan how to best be ready to do it again, only better.