Tomorrow is the big day, everybody. Wish me luck! Thought I would repost, even though it’s not so terribly old…
I get it! I get it. You want me to work out. And by “you” I mean every person that has been sending emails, facebook advertisements, Groupon and livingsocial deals inviting me to run, play, jump and climb on various types of courses and equipment. And you found your target audience– yay you! The only way you’re going to get me to join any exercising event is by adding tons of toys and costumes that deflect from the fact that I will be in agony and misery and sweating my ass off while surrounded by hundreds of people I have never met and the ones of people I actually know that I could con into joining me! The Bubble Run, Zombie Run, Color Run, Neon Run, Blacklight Run, Meet Me on Mars Run, Cannonball Run (just kidding), Run like a Pirate, Hug a Runner Run, Dirty Girl Mud Run, Spaceballs! Dark Helmut 5k and 10k, Super Hero 5k, Coyote Chase 5k, Big Gay 5k, Ugly Sweater 5k, Ninja Virtual 5k, Underwearness—Drop Your Drawers and Run Wild 5k, and the Beer Relay (where people run and drink in 90 degree heat) are all legitimate events in and around Denver. Honestly, they all sound like a freaking blast and most of them are created as fundraisers for various causes but I know they’re all just a ploy to get me to peel myself off of my couch and do something active with my body.
And they got me. I received the email this morning reminding me that I was crazy enough to sign up for the Warrior Dash this year. Mud, fire, ropes and wooden logs—ah, how I have missed you so (ehh). I signed up in January and I knew the event was just sitting there waiting for me to acknowledge it, but I was letting it wait and simmer for a few months as my motivation for getting in shape this summer. (You’ve all seen my picture by now—you can see how well it worked.) I would get to it when I was good and ready. Then February turned into March and the most exercise I did was getting up to get the heavy blanket to cover myself while I watched the last episodes of Glee (sniff). I did manage to get off my duff and exercise March through June and I was feeling supercharged, until I discovered the joy of blogging and doing nothing but writing in my free time, so now I’m as in shape as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. After the initial feeling of panic the email brought me, I realized that I have a good solid month to work up to what is arguably the hardest physical challenge I have ever volunteered to take on.
I did my first Warrior Dash two years ago when I was seduced by the fact that I was at my lowest weight (in a really long time) and I was feeling pretty amazing. I could do anything and apparently I WOULD do anything. My hubby and one of my best friends joined me and we kicked that course’s ass. Well, more like kicked it in the knee, but we made it! My time was horrendous and I got freaking tired of all of the “elite” runners bitching because I was crawling through the metal tunnel with mud and sharp pebbles grinding into my knees too slowly and they were losing time, but I completed every obstacle. I still have the medal for participation tucked away in a safe place and I pull it out once in a while to look at it and remember when…
Well, mostly I remember the ten pounds of mud that packed itself into my underwear after I dove into the mud pit and the pain in my knees and my inability to walk for the next two days because I failed to stretch when I finished the course (I’m an idiot, I know) but there’s also the good stuff, too. Like, being with my favorite people while being cheered on by spectators and finishing the run so early in the morning that we still had access to fairly warm water when we hit the communal showers. Plus, I got a cool furry hat with horns and a t-shirt that I could wear around for the rest of my life that would show off how awesome I am and how lazy everyone else is. Bonus!
However, I was not really chomping at the bit to repeat the experience. I bowed out of last year’s race and opted to spend time with my son doing a one mile run for kids. I was thrilled to not have muddy underwear, but I wasn’t exactly home free—this small event had a slide that ended in a pool of slime. I have now had unusual substances where they ought not to be and I truly question my sanity each and every time I end up in this predicament. Sigh. The things I do for love.
Greg managed to get a few more friends and family members to join him last year and I heard they had a really great time. They all came down from the mountain (our Warrior Dash is at Copper) with a million plans for this year and a desire for me to join them. I hemmed and hawed as long as I could but I knew that I really wanted to join in. I also knew that I wasn’t even remotely ready, but, no problem, I could train and lose weight at the same time.
Which brings me back to today and my panic at seeing the reminder email. I have not trained. I have not mentally prepared and I have not really thought about what the course is going to be like for me this year. I haven’t done shit. But, I still hope. I hope that I can find clothes that I don’t mind ruining as I slog through the mud. I hope that the course isn’t new and improved and bigger and badder than it was before and I hope that I actually remember to stretch when the damn thing is over. (I can’t wait. Really.)
I don’t know if I will ever do another Warrior Dash after this, but I do know that I am watching and reading all of those advertisements and invitations to run and play. I have already signed up for Warrior Dash lite- otherwise known as the Dirty Girl Mud Run, but I’m not sure it counts as an actual run. It’s more like social hour with a couple of activities thrown in (totally my style of exercise) but it is a lot of fun. I have also been eyeing that Bubble Run and that Neon Run but, seriously, I need to figure out how much those things will cut into my television and writing time. I have priorities, you know. It’s a whole fun, crazy active world out there and I appreciate the interest in making me a healthier person—all except for you, Zombie Run, you can suck it.
© DRB 2015