Is it just me, or is it muddy in here? V at The Survival Race

(Addressing a recent meeting of Prissy Runners Anonymous)

Me: Hello, my name is Victoria. I'm a prissy runner, I like to wear sporty little skirts when I run, and I really, really like the color hot pink throughout my workout wardrobe. 

P.R.A. members: Hello, Victoria. Welcome. 

Me: Well friends, I've made what I believe to be a bold step in my attempt to branch out and be a more adventurous runner. Last weekend I did a few new things. 

P.R.A. members: Good for you. We hope you didn't break a nail. 

Me: I didn't break "a" nail. I broke several nails. 

P.R.A. members: (Collective gasp)

Me: I wore ... ORANGE. Bright orange. 

P.R.A. members: (Collective gasp, plus anxious murmuring ...)

Me: And shorts. Gray ones.

P.R.A. members: (Confused mutterings; one person awkwardly stands up, then sits back down.)

Me:  And while I was running, I jumped off balance beams, belly-crawled under fences in sand and mud, scaled giant hills, climbed a 10-foot wall, traversed a skinny rope bridge, high-kneed a tire field, hurdled 4-foot wide and high logs, scurried up ropes, sprinted in and along a creek, and flung myself up and over a cargo net. And, in my most impressive feat, ... I ran on GRASS. 

P.R.A. members: Who ARE you? It's like we don't even know you anymore. What is happening?? 

Me: And at the end, I flung myself and my sparkly gold headband into M-U-D. MUD. That's right. Dirt AND water,  mixed together. 

P.R.A. members: (Silent, as most have passed out.) 

That's right, dear readers, I've completed my very first (and probably not last) obstacle course race. The Survival Race took place on Sept. 28 in Holland, Ohio, right off Airport Highway in a big field/wooded/rivery-area. 

I took on this challenge solo because M had to take adorable family pictures with Jodi from JustMemorieZ. (side note: is there a word that's stronger than "adorable"? Because seriously: these girls take the most superlatively adorable pictures, hand to God. ) 

Coach B bowed out of the run because, well, he's just smarter than I am. He did come watch, schlep my stuff, take great pics, and point out all the mud that remained behind after I used the "shower" (read: garden hose with spray nozzle). But, I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Months and months ago, I bought a Groupon for $30 for The Survival Race, then registered and pretty much forgot about it until about five days before the event, when runner friend Erin reminded me that it was coming up. Ooops. I looked up my wave time (10 a.m.) and noted that I was to report about an hour early to pick up my packet, check out the course and mingle with other racers ("Survivalists?").

 Coach B and I arrived around 9ish, navigated my Honda Civic through muddy ruts to park (the first obstacle), and then wound our way to the registration tables. A DJ was pumping house music and old favorites, kids were running around scaling their own mini-obstacles, and an announcer was cheering on racers through the P.A. system that blared above the music and general din. Pretty much organized chaos. 

Counter to other reviews I've read on this race series (and they're hard to find), it was pretty well organized, with signs clearly marking where runners should go for registration, bag drop-off, food, merch, and beer. Yes, beer. At 9 a.m. I made my way to the check-in kiosk, handed in my pre-printed and signed release forms (if you want things to go smoothly, you have to do your part too), and received my bib and swag. You know how much I like swag, so I was happy to receive the official black and white cotton race T-shirt (a little generic; no dates or locations on it) and a black-and-red drawstring backpack (I use these like crazy as go-bags for different sports & races). Attached to the bib was a bag-check tag and a free beer coupon (SCORE!).  So far, I was out $40 (it cost $10 to park) and had a race entry, shirt, backpack, and the promise of beer to show for it. 

Coach B and I milled around a bit checking out some of the obstacles and parked ourself by the mud pit -- the final challenge of the 5k. People looked clean up until this point, so I surmised that it might not be *too* taxing. But, wow, once you hit that mud, you were absolutely filthy. It's almost like some kind of coloring agent was added to the mud. I doubt it, really, but I never thought mud would be that, well, dirty. 

The announcement came for my wave, so I queued up with fellow adventure-seekers at the start line. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew I didn't want to be stuck waiting behind a line of people  when it came time to do the obstacles, so I started very close to the front.  I stretched because I had nothing else to do while I was waiting, hugged Coach B, then took off at the sound of the horn. 

Stretching ... what you do when there's nothing left to do. 

I have no idea what kind of pace I was running. My idea was to go quickly, but slowly enough to identify the tree roots that I was going to probably trip over. I'm not going to lie: the race was pretty much a big blur. There were at least a dozen obstacles, and early on I tried keeping a running list in my head so I could relate them all to you. 


So the first 1k went like this: run run run, jump over big sawhorses, run run run, high-step through field of tires, run run run, walk up and over a teeter-totter,  run run run, cross skinny rope bridge, run run run, and then a bunch of other obstacles that are all jumbled up. This is what I remember doing (while breathing heavier than I like to admit): 

I think I'm smiling, not grimacing ...

• Crawling in the sand under a chain-link fence (I got turned around somehow and went out the side of it, then snagged my shorts)
• Climbing up a big pitched wall using mountain climbing hand and foot holds (ropes were other options to get up and over it)
• Climbing up a big rope to touch the top of a tree (I got sand in my eyes, panicked thinking about impending corneal abrasions, and didn't go all the way up)
• Weaving through a spider-web-like network of stretchy bungee cords
• Swinging on a rope over a mud pit
• Scrambling down a muddy bank and running in a creek (No avoiding getting the shoes wet. Panicked thinking of leeches and water-borne pathogens.)
• Running up a HUGE sandy hill ("Momentum is your friend," advised the obstacle volunteer)
• Running up  and down a series of several hills
• Grabbing a sandbag and lugging it in a loop
• Crawling up a  very tall cargo net, slinging my leg over, and climbing down
• Flinging myself in the mud and belly crawling through under wires

By the time the mud pit came, I was resigned to my fate. I jumped in and the mud was immediately cooling. Ahh, so that's why pigs do it. Not that pigs swing on rope swings and run three miles, but I'm sure they get hot, too. My braids dipped into the mud, and I crawled all the way through, but keeping my head up (I would NOT deal with mud in my face). The announcer called me "Muddy Pocohontas" as I got out and sprinted to the end. 

This is AFTER I cleaned up a little bit. 

I was definitely a mud ball. Even Coach B said he wouldn't want anything to do with me. I hit the "showers" and was mildly cleaner by the time I was done, having sprayed cold water through a garden hose on every square inch of myself that I could reach. Change of clothes and time for beer. This was not your run-of-the-mill swill. Great Black Swamp Brewing Co. was on hand, and I had the tastiest glass of Mosquito Red at 11 a.m. Better than a banana. I bought four tickets ($1 apiece) and handed Coach B a GBS Pale Ale. Not a bad way to start a morning. 

If you get a chance, try an obstacle course race, at least once. Be cautious and don't injure yourself, and take joy in acting like a kid again on the equivalent of grown-up playground equipment and mud. I thought it was a blast, and I hope to see you out there next time! 


Be kind to yourself. Be kind to each other. -- V.