Review of Tough Mudder Challenge. Exec. Summary - It's tough!
The course is unrelenting and can only be described as punishing. I’ll get to that.
Maybe that is what it takes to show the amazing human spirit – Hundreds/Thousands working together and helping each other get through obstacles, through water, over mud hills. Despite the fact that most everyone must have been in a mildly hypothermic state most of the time (I was), there was nothing but good will, enthusiasm and drive.
This course was the most ambitious put together by Tough Mudder to date – double the length (12.5 miles) and number of obstacles (18).
Everyone I had invited to do the race with me bagged except for Sanjay, a critical care physician at Hopkins. He brought eight of his friends (six doctors) – a great group.
After running a mile or so, the first major obstacle (#3) was a drop into a lake from a platform you wall climb up with a rope. From there, you swim/bob 50 feet across the lake Lorien, a teammate I had just met, and I were on the platform at the same time. She is an ER physician by day – skills that could prove useful. I have been in this situation so many times in my life – times when you’re scared to death and lightly flirting with feelings of quitting – but knowing intellectually that it would just take seconds and you’ll be fine on the other side of it. I activated my usual auto-pilot (Go on three – 1,2, Jump).
Both Lauren and I jumped within seconds of each other. The impact was a massive shock to the system. I made my way to the surface; and saw above water the other side of the river. I started to swim and immediately realized that there was no way I could make it to the other side. I could not catch my breath. I started to make my way to the bank. Lauren said she saw me heading to the side and did the same. We stepped out of the water; and tried to catch our breath. Given that there was no way around but through, I made my way across with reassurances that the water would shallow out to enable standing a quarter to a half way out. The water was freezing!!!
Mildly scared – each step looking for some footing surprisingly there at the last possible moment before my head would begin to be submerged – I made my way across. Three quarters of the way across my thoughts were overwhelmed by my sheer state of frigidity. Stepping out of the opposite bank, I felt naked. Lycra clung to my skin in a way that you had to examine yourself for reassurance that you weren’t standing there butt naked. Even looking at my Lululemon T and shorts clinging to my body, I still wasn’t fully convinced. You had to choose which of your senses to trust – it felt so bare.
Lauren was making her way out of the water. She gave a huge high five and said “great job.” I looked at her – and it felt as if I knew her for 20 years rather than an actual 20 minutes. How many times, on a regular basis, do I hear good job with a high five. I can’t remember the last time where it felt quite this significant.
Our group converged on the opposite bank and we reassured ourselves that we must have gotten the worst over. Spirits were high. There wasn’t a complaint to be heard. Surely nothing else could possibly compare to that.
After moving forward maybe 200 yards, it quickly dawned on us that we have to go back through this lake downstream and get back to the other bank. A soaring mood was quickly brought back down to earth. We are going to have to endure this for longer than any of us wanted to contemplate at that second.
But we made it through that as well and it went on and on. I was up to practically my shoulders in the mud mile. I must have had one hell of a look on my face. This beautiful TV anchor had her camera pointed on me and yelled – You look cold. If Rob was here, he would have called her Captain Obvious. Then on to miles of mud hills.
Whose idea was the fire hose sprinklers? Was that really necessary? That question was continually being asked by nearly everyone around me. As you’re struggling through the mud, you rise over one peak only to get sprayed across your face by water funnels.
At every turn, just as you flirt with the idea that the worst is over, that thought is quickly extinguished. Next up – low crawl in the mud under barbed wire. Yes. Most of the time your head is submerged in mud.
After another several hours of climbing under tunnels, over monkey bars, walking the plank, running through fire, carrying tires, climbing over walls, including a net based climb over a massive men’s porta-poddy, you see the Finish line in front of you.
But true to this race’s nature, you can hardly believe your eyes when you see that there is another obstacle before the final half mile. There can’t be. I went through the obstacles in my mind – that’s right there is the mystery obstacle. I’m glad I didn’t know about this one until this point. There would have been a good chance that I wouldn’t have showed up.
You’re essentially running the gauntlet. There are electric wires hanging down that shock you as you run through the chamber. Two possibilities. You could try low crawling through the mud and potentially go under the wires or muscle through it. I was essentially alone at this point. I left the group I was with a few miles back for a final push. I thought for sure I was hypothermic at this point – and need to massively increase my running speed to gain back my temperature (Yes – I know you never leave your wingman; But I don’t ever remember a hypothermic Iceman).
I opted to run the gauntlet standing and go for pure speed and momentum. I made it halfway through seemingly avoiding the cables fairly well when I got a massive shock to my right arm. The right arm limped against my side. Legs were still working. Almost through – I could see the other side. I think my head may have already been through.
I felt a massive jolt and my right leg went limp. Fortunately, my momentum carried me through the gauntlet and I collapsed on the grass past all the cables.
The shock was just enough to momentarily disable your muscles but was transient. Immediately after landing on the ground, I got back up and accelerated for the last half mile kick.
It’s very difficult not to like (or maybe even love) the Tough Mudder. I felt comaraderie and kinship with folks I barely knew. Though I feel no particular need to do this race again, I would in an instant – with a group of friends.