May 18, 2012 by Kim
“You learn something new every day”
That little saying has been around for quite some time. I’ve heard it, I’ve spoken it, I’ve rolled my eyes at it.
But it’s truth…
I awoke, before the sun, on May 12 2012 with one solitary mission.
To survive to see May 13 2012
Somewhere, during the months prior I had made the decision to participate in Barstow’s 1st Annual 5K Mud Run.
It seemed like a decent idea at the time and when you live smack dab in the middle of the desert, anything pertaining to water has the ability to draw you into its clutches. Wallowing around in the mud honestly sounded fun… However, I guess that I forgot my nemesis “running” would also be involved.
To be honest “running” and I don’t really have any beef with each other… We don’t hang out like we should, but if I was ever being chased by a rabid kangaroo… I’m sure we could figure things out.
Any bad feelings towards “running” can be traced back to my old pal “asthma”
“running” and “asthma” have had quite a few altercations
I’ve tried to make them hug it out… but I think it’s pretty much a lost cause.
Other than my 2 mile asthma attack, I think I did fairly well. I managed to finish the race and I didn’t get passed by anyone that looked like they could have been my Grandma’s Mother’s age.
Lessons Learned? Words of Wisdom? But, of course…
I spent more time obsessing over what I was going to wear and how I was going to do my hair than actually training for the race. I’m thinking my priorities may have been a little backwards.
Those muddy pits are a lot harder to cross thru than you would expect… Doggy paddling may be a viable option to look into. Many a runner lost shoes to the muddy pits. Beware
Breathing is extremely beneficial during the act of running. I have created the new international sign for “I’m not a lazy loser, I just have asthma and it hurts to inhale…and exhale” All you have to do is place both hands around your neck, as you heave empty breaths in and out…and scowl. I believe the “F” word fell out of my mouth a couple dozen times, also… The “F” word is optional.
Rolled ankles will be wished upon anyone who cheerfully bounces past you, while have an upbeat conversation with their running partner. The severity of the rolled ankle increases the closer you get to the finish line.
It is frowned upon to flip your 7-year-old son the bird, when he’s yelling at you angrily for not “winning the run” at the 2nd mile mark
Pulling that older lady out of the middle of that deep mud pit will be good for your karma, one of these days… as long as after the race you don’t excitedly point her out and tell everyone within 50 feet of your good deed. No one wants to be known as the older lady that got stuck in the mud pit…
It is perfectly acceptable to heckle any runners who cut the course. It is, however, not acceptable to tackle them, remove their tracker device and throw it into the nearest mud pit… and it is REALLY not acceptable to accidentally hit an older lady in the head, who is stuck in the middle of a mud pit, with the tracker device that you just gnawed off the shoe of a dirty course cutter.
Screaming “WAAAAATCH OUUUUUUUT” as you shoot down the 87 foot mudslide will result in every single person at the bottom staying exactly where they are. If you only make hard contact one other runner, at the bottom… consider yourself lucky. You will not hear the next slider’s screams of terror as you are too busy watching the cartoon blue birds fluttering around your head. Don’t freak out if someone grabs your arm, neck, torso or ponytail and pulls… there is a 57-year-old man presently on a collision course with the back of your head.
Refrain from saying anything encouraging to the runners you pass… if you feel the need for communication just angrily mumble how hard this shit is or declare that you feel like your going to die…. The “F” word works too, unless you’re passing a child….oh, who am I kidding, The “F” word works too…period.
It is frowned upon to flip your 7-year-old son the bird, while he’s crying on the sidelines and loudly asking your Husband “Why Mom still walking? Why her no run? Mom no win race ever!!!” at the 3 mile mark
All’s well that end’s well, though
I managed to finish the race and Dickie only stole 3 of my 4 orange slices.