Mom Runs Through Mud, Barbed Wire, Over Walls & Hits Deep Water in one Day

Mom on the Run

By LIANNE WILKENS

I am standing almost at the top of the man-made hill, and I am shivering. I’m already soaked through, and the chilly wind is blowing.

At least I’m among friends. Brand-new friends. And my husband, who has been such a good sport about this all along, from the day I had the idea, to yesterday when I had second thoughts, to every step of the way – literally – today. “Just put one foot in front of the other,” he keeps saying.

We are at the Warrior Dash, a mud run obstacle course. It’s a 5k run – already a challenge for me, I can wear out an elliptical machine but I do not run – broken up by 12 obstacles. “It’s going to be so much fun!” enthused my friend Carrie back in January. It did sound like fun, right? In May, lovely warm May. Climbing up things, running through mud. And, “Oh, you can do a 5k,” Carrie had pooh-poohed. “It’ll be easy.”

Plus it was a fundraiser! For St. Jude Children’s Hospital. Absolutely, I was in. I talked my sisters into it, and my husband and my son, and my sister talked her husband into it, and yay! A big group event! How exciting!

First my son backed out. He had to work. Then my brother-in-law canceled; his hip hurts. My youngest sister decided that crawling over obstacles and getting muddy didn’t sound like so much fun after all. And my other sister, well, her husband was already out, and they were having guests that night.

So on the evening before the Dash, my husband and I debated. It was far away. The weathermen were calling for storms. It was chilly. The waiver read, “I expressly acknowledge and agree that the activities of the Event involve the risk of serious injury and/or death.” In the end, this close to canceling, my husband convinced me to decide in the morning. And in the morning, I realized that I did not want to admit to having backed out. So we packed towels and a change of clothes, dug up our crummiest sneakers, plugged the site into the GPS, and off we went.

As we hiked from the parking lot to the race start, we passed waves of people who had already finished. Some were slathered in chunky yellow mud. Some were just dirty. And all were happy, laughing, joking around. Look, it’s fun!, I jabbed my skeptical husband with my elbow. We stood in line for the restrooms. We registered, and pinned numbered racer bibs to our shirts. We wondered about the people who had duct-taped their shoes onto their feet, wrapping the tape around their ankles. And we followed the arrows and made it to the chute just as a group started. Everyone took off running, and before I could dread or worry about it, I was running too.

We ran and ran and ran through the woods. Over tree limbs, around fallen logs, up and down steep hills. The first hint of things to come was a bottleneck at a small stream, as people tried to jump over or move to the far left where we could almost, just barely step over the water. In low-lying areas there were corners where hundreds of runners before us had pounded the ground into a thick black muck. It didn’t take long before – wham! – I hit the ground. “Oof!”, I tried to get up, quickly, aware of people thundering around me. My husband turned back, “Are you OK?” “Yes!” I was up and at ‘em again.

And there! Around a corner, the first obstacle! “Keep your butt down,” my husband cautioned, as we threw ourselves onto all fours and crawled under rows of barbed wire – little red flags dancing in the wind, announcing: “REAL barbed wire!” We scrambled through the other side, and ha! No problem! I can do this! I grinned at my husband and, having had a little rest, took off running again. Woohoo!

Sadly, the barbed wire crawl turned out to be the easiest obstacle. After that, 20-foot walls with rope lattices to climb up … and a straight drop down. Walking the plank, 2×4 boards with little toe-holds, high in the air, with – gasp! such a shock – a cold shower at the peak, before slowly, carefully making our way back down. A huge tilted wooden wall, with ropes and infrequent foot- and hand-holds to aid the climb. But I did them! I didn’t think about it, I just plunged in, putting one foot in front of the other.

And it’s been fun. I’m cold, yes, soaked from that walk-the-plank shower, but I’m doing this! I’m almost 47, and I’m here hanging even with 20-somethings. Yes! I’m feeling confident, victorious, strong.

Until I get to the top of this hill. It’s a homemade water slide, with a big muddy pool at the bottom. I’m waiting my turn with my husband, and a Mohawked, shirtless guy painted green like the Incredible Hulk, and his girlfriend in a Spider-Man tank top, and two women in tie-dyed shirts. The Hulk is laughing and joking with his buddies, all casual and confident. Like me, the tie-dyed shirt women are looking around and down nervously. The slide part is no big deal, but that water at the end … we’re watching other people hit it hard, very hard.

“It’s really deep,” I comment. Everyone nods. “I think I’m going to go feet-first,” says one tie-dye lady. “Maybe we can go together,” the other suggests, “Look at them,” nodding at a pair who link arms and go down side-by-side. But, “Oooh, maybe not,” as the girl on the left slides backwards, behind her friend, and the girl in the front bends over from her friend’s weight, and they go into the water fast and angled and all jumbled up, arms and legs flying. No matter how they start off, I notice, every single slider ends up completely submerged.

“I don’t want to get all wet again,” I mutter to my husband. “I just got a little dried out from the plank shower!” Arms crossed, he grins down at me, enjoying the spectacle.

But then, before I’m ready, it’s my turn. I’m at the front, and like this whole day, I don’t think, I don’t plan, I don’t prepare, I just sit down, scooch forward, and fly away.