Today, I participated in my first mud run. Having completed a half dozen full marathons and a bevy of other, shorter races, I felt pretty confident about my odds of finishing the 4-mile-long torture course, and actually did pretty well. What I discovered, however, was that I was sorely under dressed for the event. The level of fanaticism that I witnessed among many of the other race participants, including their often creative choices of running attire, fell somewhere between fraternal hijinks and complete insanity. I had assumed that the proper state of mind for tackling the unholy union of physical exertion, punishing obstacles and chest deep sludge, would be one of somber, focused, introspection. I was incorrect.
Held on what can best be described as a working farm, the Primal Mud Run featured a gauntlet of punishing obstacles spread out across acres of rolling Virginia countryside. Some of the challenges that brave (or unwitting) competitors encountered along the run included: A cargo net climb; a swim that forced participants to repeatedly submerge in a rancid lake in order to get past a series of barb-wire-covered barrels; a circuit course where the participants had to run while carrying full sand bags; a never ending set of monkey bars; numerous, rickety, wood plank walls; hay bales and many other sadistic treats. Did I mention that almost all of these challenges took place in or around mud?
Yep, that just happened.
The following are highlights of the rest of the day’s frivolities.