The Mud Run Experience for a Non-Athlete.
Friends of mine (athletic ones!) did the Tough Mudder several years ago. I was there cheering from the sidelines. It was freezing that day and I would be their beacon of hope (their words, not mine) waiting every few obstacles with water bottles, hats and gloves to give the team a quick warm up before they tackled the next challenge.
I was in awe of their perseverance on the infamous course as they embraced their fears and pushed their limits, both mentally and physically. If you’re not familiar, the Tough Mudder is basically 10 miles, mud and 25 intense obstacles such as running through electric ribbons and scaling walls that are way too high for the faint of heart.
Truthfully, I was happy on the sidelines. Running a Tough Mudder isn’t really something I’ve ever aspired to do for many reasons. One being that I’m just not built with that much competitive, challenge-myself-to-the-max kind of chutzpah. Another being my physical reality.
After a surgery in 2007, I was left with chronic nerve pain. It meant years of doctors’ appointments, a decade of intense pain medications (none now!) and limited functionality. It’s also meant a constant editing of my activities to save energy and capacity for work and other important tasks. The idea of doing anything physical at that intensity level seemed completely out of reach.
Last spring, though, I saw an advertisement on Instagram. It was for a MUD RUN close to London. It was only 5 kms and 25 obstacles. I perceived it to be a younger, tamer cousin of the Tough Mudder and in a moment of chutzpah, I registered. Then I sent a note to a bunch of friends to ask if they wanted in on some mudding action. Most said no. A handful said yes.
Our team name: Straight Off the Couch.
While it seemed like a good idea last spring, about a week before the run, I wasn’t exactly pleased with my spring enthusiastic self. What was I thinking? If I didn’t have a team to hold me accountable, I may have bailed. It highlights the power of external accountability.
Like with so many opportunities that take us out of our comfort zones, finding excuses is easy.
The excuses of why I shouldn’t do the run were plentiful. My nerve pain is still an issue. I haven’t run since I was a sporty 20-something. My workout routine isn’t consistent, and my upper body strength isn’t going to win arm-wrestling matches anytime soon. Plus, I was nervous.
However, expanding our comfort zones is important to avoid stagnation and boredom in life. The problem is, comfort zones are comfortable. Excuses aim to keep us there and so it’s up to us to choose not to let excuses be the driving force behind our actions.
I find the advice to just ignore excuses to be unhelpful. Instead, I acknowledge them and challenge myself to flip the script, so that I find a more empowering storyline. One-by-one working through each excuse.
· Yes, the nerve pain is an issue. Flipped to: the pain is the pain, no matter if I race or don’t. Plan for a couple recovery days to absorb the extra effort and use all of your pain management tools you’ve used for a decade.
· Running isn’t my forte. Flipped to: I can choose to move at my pace (which, turns out is speed-ish walking.)
· Upper body strength may be lacking. Flipped to: I can compensate by using my strong legs and core.
· Nervous. Flipped to: yes, and really, nervous is thee same emotion physiologically as excitement, with a negative story. So, I flipped it to say I was excited, which it turns out, I was.
All of the nerves in advance turned out to be pointless. The course was actually easy and REALLY FUN!! I loved being in the MUD (FYI it really stinks.)
There were three obstacles that I thought were going to be really scary and ultimately, weren’t, at all. Imagine if I allowed my fear and excuses to dictate my actions and didn’t climb that seemingly way-too-high wall? I would have always wondered if I could have done it.
(Sidebar question because I can’t help myself from the coach I am: What are you letting fear or excuses stop you from doing?)
And there was one obstacle that I didn’t realize would be scary as I approached it. When I jumped into the water, I felt some serious anxiety and claustrophobia set in. After some hesitation, I said screw it, closed my eyes, and dunked my head into the muddy water to get under the bridge. Of all the obstacles, that was the scariest for me and the most satisfying. It pushed me to look fear in the face and go for it.
The last two obstacles were the most physically demanding.
Truthfully, in the mud crawl, most of what I was thinking as I was flopping around in the mud — was gosh, Why don’t they have a camera angle on this obstacle? This is good stuff for social media. Then the ridiculousness of that thinking occupied my focus a bit.
I kept getting stuck and then having to find creative ways to free myself from the mud. When you go deep into the mud it suctions around you. At one point I barrel rolled out of mud to get unstuck. It was so funny, but alas, with no photos, you can’t enjoy in the moment.
Gratefully, my teammates started cheering my name to keep me going. I don’t know if it was my size or my density or the speed at which I was moving, this obstacle really seemed to want to swallow me up in its muddy terrain. When I got to the end, and a friend helped pull me out, I was so beyond grateful that I did not quit. So often, we quit because something gets tough, when joy and satisfaction are just a few more pulls away.
By the final obstacle, my body was confused. My leg, which is influenced by my damaged nerves, started talking back. It was like, WTF is going on here and how much longer are you going to engage in these shenanigans? If you’ve listened to any of my thoughts on dealing with pain, (here are two podcasts and a link to my book if that’s of interest to you), then you’ll already know that when my pain spikes, I talk to it like it’s a friend.
Up there, with one leg stretched back and uncooperative behind me and the other hanging over the netting, I had a conversation with my pain and eventually it swung, as awkwardly as it could have, over the wall and I was back on the ground. (Again, no photos for you to enjoy this scene.)
As the 6 of us, joined arms and crossed the finish line, I was pretty overwhelmed with emotion. I held back the tears and the emotions. Mainly because I thought, for goodness sakes Allison this is JUST a baby Mudder. You didn’t run a marathon. It’s not like tears are justified.
Then, a friend reminded me, this was my version of a marathon and finishing is not to be diminished. It’s the thing I thought I would never be able to do — and now, I did it. Every obstacle was completed successfully, although not always gracefully. That’s the power of ignoring the excuses and challenging your comfort zone. Now that I know I can do that, what’s next…hmm, maybe one day a mini-Tough Mudder? Will see if my enthusiastic self sees any Instagram ads next spring.
