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Duct Tape and Death Waivers, An Epic Tale of Tough Mudders

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Perhaps you thought after reading this tale

that on our Tough Mudder we would not prevail.

And you would be wrong, so pull up a chair.

I will start from the end and tell how we got there.

That's love, right there, people. Mud covered, happy to be alive, We Did It! love. Drink it in.

There we are coming back, no broken bones  among us,

though mud tried to drown and wires to shock us.

Fair Maiden Angela joined us for the romp in the woods

knowing that whatever happened, it was bound to be good.

She came bearing gifts of death waivers to sign,

duct tape for our shoes, and a bottle of wine (oh, how she knows me).

Yes, you actually have to sign a Death Waiver. And yes, you actually have to duct tape your shoes to your feet. That mud can suck your shoes off faster than a Colombian hooker at a Secret Service party.

Here we are, pre race, a right jolly old crew,

unaware that we were in for hours of wading through goo.

Casey is all like, 'Really? I'm running it with these two idiots? Really?'

We meet up with our team made of uncles and friends

and Casey’s step brother, Erin, who started this trend.

He did a Tough Mudder and made it sound so much fun

that Casey started saying HE wanted to do one.

So off to Tampa he flew to Tough Mudder with his buddy,

where he had so much fun and got really muddy.

He came back brimming with tales of getting cold, wet and wetter.

And since anything he can do I can do better,

we signed up for the Michigan event. All of us. Together.

L-R, Angela, Erin (or as I call him He Who Started This), Matt, Jim, Me, (LOOK AT HOW CUTE I AM), Uncle Mike, and Casey. They have to write your number on your head cause good luck getting out of there with your bib intact. Also, it makes you look way more bad ass.

To get to the starting line you had to scale a ten foot wall.

Those Mudder peeps weren’t messing around. Like, at all.

I think right here I was thinking, 'Really? Can't we just raise show dogs like a NORMAL COUPLE?'

We climb and we kneel and we recite the Mudder Creed.

I was so excited that I damn near peed.


Before you know it, you’re running so full of vigor and vim.

A giant dumpster full of ice. You’re going for a swim.

Why yes. That IS a dumpster full of ice. Notice the wooden post across it with the barbed wire? There is only one way to get to the other side. And that's under. I can't even imagine how painful this was to people with testicles.

It was painful enough for those of us without testicles. I say testicles, because you can't say we don't have balls. Big, swinging, hairy balls. Angela looks cold, doesn't she?

We scaled 12 foot walls, we ran through trails of fire,

we climbed up steep hills and crawled under barbed wire.

Some wire was just plain old regular twine,

but some were high voltage electrical vines.

Having never been shocked before, I was unsure what to expect. Having been shocked four times in this obstacle alone, including one directly on my forehead, I can safely say it is every bit as bad as you think it would be.

We staggered through swamps, we trudged through mud thick as tar,

and then we arrived at the Tough Mudder Monkey Bars.

That's Uncle Mike making it look easy. They go UP. I challenge any of you to drag your wet, muddy ass UP monkey bars. I took one look at that and jumped in the water below. Homie wasn't even playing.

We took a water proof camera to chronicle our journey,

and some turned out nice, if not a bit blurry.

I think the key to making your teeth look really white is to cover your face in mud. Try it! Those are real smiles though. Real muddy.

As the miles racked up, we showed no signs of slowing.

Our spirits grew stonger, our smiles kept growing.

I think the one constant is that we are smiling in almost every damn picture. Mile one, smiling, mile ten, smiling. Finish line, HUGE SMILE.

I saw kindness and greatness in the Mudders all around.

People helped you and cheered you and picked you up were down.

So as if trudging through this isn't gross enough... we were wading through chest deep, frigid water. I had Angela in front of me and Casey behind me. I had to pee really bad, and was looking forward to a water obstacle so I could, um, pee. I said, "WOO! It's too cold to even PEE in this water!", to which Angela and Casey replied, in unison, "No it's not". THEY PEED ON ME!

You can’t do a Mudder alone, nor should you try.

I’m going to be honest. You would probably die.

Me and Angela. What a fantastic experience we had that day. I never thought when I met her ten years ago, when we were both bartenders at Philthy McNasty's, that we would EVER do this. EVER.

There we are in 2002. Do we LOOK like Tough Mudders? No. DEAR GOD I WAS SO YOUNG.

As we came to the end, dirty and tired.

What awaited? Oh yes! A shit ton of live wires!

There is the team getting ready to dash through YES, a shit ton of live wires. It's called Electro Shock Therapy and it's the last obstacle of the event, and TRUST ME - if you've made it this far, you are fucking running through that thing.

We did it! Each one of us finished as planned.

And for it we got a free beer and the world’s most awesome headband.

The whole team, all headbanded up! Note to self: stop throwing horns. You look like an IDIOT.

What happened to Casey had happened to me.

I now want to do two Tough Mudders, or three!

We’re coming to see you, and it better not blow.

Go big or go home, August 6th, Toronto.

Yours in I had twigs in places you don’t want to know,



7 responses »

  1. Awesome! Love the pics!

  2. Ha ha! So it’s not like a real race, it’s an experience, right?

    Looks like you killed it as I suspected you would!

    • It’s not a race, it’s a challenge. That’s sort of their motto. Which is good, because that’s what I think of every race I go into!!

  3. And… you do this shit on purpose?

  4. Electro-shock therapy, mud flying in droplets

    And the first thing you think is…rhyming couplets?

  5. Yikes! I signed in under the wrong name! My bad.


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