The Chicago Down and Dirty Mud Run

Yesterday I ran my very first 5K. Not just any 5K, but a mud run. And not just a mud run, but a mud run with military-style obstacle courses thrown in. Did I mention it was at night? I trained for months. When I began, I could barely run for an entire song on my iPod much less 3.1 miles. I remember the day I actually ran a whole mile, without stopping. I called my little sister Whitney (who happens to love running) and she said, "If you can run 1 mile, you can run 2." Irritated as I was at the time, she was right. I worked my way up to 2, then 2.5. I ran my first 3.1 miles on April 18... the same day as the Boston Marathon. It's the farthest I've ever run in my life.

Every runner I know chastized me for sticking to a treadmill for my training because it's so boring. For an out of shape asthmatic, it gave me the chance to build my confidence and focus on my form. A couple of days before the mud run I came down with a horrible cold. I tried to ease up on my training and get myself well again but to no avail. I went into the mud run sick as a dog. Even so I felt confident in my running abilities, and according to the website map, there were only 3 obstacle courses. I decided to just enjoy the experience.

So clean, so innocent! So unaware of the pain that awaits her...

The mud run had wave starts and I was of course in the last wave. I noticed the people in previous waves were super slim and in head-to-toe professional gear. They had deep sea diving watches and a calm confidence. There wasn't a lot of socializing going on between them although there was a lot of jostling for the front of the line. As the time ran down for them they did some last-minute stretches. The people in my wave were a little different. They were dressed a little more, let's just say festive. There was a lot more juiciness in terms of physique. Everyone commented on how our headlamps were attracting bugs. Some people even started square dancing to "Cotton Eye Joe" which was playing over the main stage speakers. Then it was our turn.

Even with my cold, I hit a pace that felt really good and stuck with it. I easily passed a number of people. A couple of athletic looking guys stopped and walked after only 0.5 miles! So I was feeling good. Then came the first obstacle course. I watched the group of people in front of me start moving funny and couldn't figure out why until I hit the mud. My feet slid in odd directions and I had to slow down or risk breaking an ankle. The Marines were manning each obstacle and they were yelling really mean things like, "No walking! RUN!" and "Move! Move! Move!!!" The first obstacle was a ladder-like structure made of planks. No big deal, right? Try doing one that's now been covered in mud from all the previous runners.

Afterwards. Don't I look a little crazy? You can see Liesel in the right corner staring at me.

I stupidly stupidly stupidly thought the obstacles would be a chance for me to catch my breath from running. After this first one, it was clear my already low energy level would be depleted by the end of it all. So I went from the ladder, to under the net (nota bene: army crawling is no joke, I just about died), to the chest high wall we had to jump over, to the tubes we crawled through to the first mud pit. Oh the mud pit. It was a series of trenches with flags running over the top. The Marines barked at us to get on our bellies and stay under the flags. It actually felt rather cool and refreshing and I thought I did fairly well at it until I tried to get out. All that mud clung to my clothes and I was suddenly 20 lbs heavier with the weight concentrated around my feet. After that there was a net climb and then the final obstacles at the very end of the race.

Hosing off. Mom asked if the water was warm or cold and I honestly told her I couldn't tell. My whole body was numb.

At the end of the race we were met with a mud pool and then a rope climb. Oh not any rope climb! It was basically a billboard set at a 45 degree angle with ropes dangling from the top. Again Marines barked at me to get flat on my belly and pull myself up by my arms alone. As if that isn't challenging enough for those of us shaped like a T-Rex (huge bootie, tiny arms), they decided to cover it with soap and vegetable oil. When I finally got to the top, I was shaking from the exertion and exhaustion. It was just one more mud pit and then the blessed finish line.

Liesel gave me the same funny look she did after I had Ireland and she came to see me in the hospital. She knew something important had happened, but something was clearly off. "You're dirty Mom." was all she had to say to me when I crossed the finish line. She's still talking about it! I have to say seeing my little family cheer me on during that last set of obstacles was a beautiful thing. Mom and Dad drove up for the occasion which means more to me than I can possibly express. As I climbed out of the mud pit Mom yelled, "You're there! You can see the finish line!" I looked up and indeed, it was just about 25 feet away.

I can't believe I did it. Had I known how many obstacles there were and how sick I would be, I never would have signed up for it. My legs reveal new bruises by the hour and they're basically a patchwork of scrapes. I got a dog tag, t-shirt and 'do rag type thing. That dog tag is definitely becoming a Christmas ornament. Even though orange isn't my color, I'm going to wear that t-shirt with pride. As for the 'do rag, I'm giving that to Brent (secretly I think he really wanted it anyway). I just still can't believe I did it! I didn't finish first, but I didn't finish last and most importantly, I finished.

I now have infinite respect for our men in uniform. And for Ireland who army crawled for so long. On that last stretch, I thought of my Grandpa Nielsen storming the beach at Iwo Jima. Even with an exhausted body, mind and soul, that was enough to get my muddy feet moving and finish as strong as I could. I hope I can do it again next year!