I am a planner. A planner and a worrier. For months, before an event, I’ll fret and stew and wonder what all will go wrong. I never take running chances because I *know* I’ll get hurt.
So last night I surprised Mike and myself by suddenly deciding I might participate in the Mudcraft event he had signed up for months earlier. He’d even recruited two kids to join our two sons (Clara had Sparks camp) and he could hardly stand the wait. Me, who never likes getting dirty, I thought he was nuts. Why volunteer to add insult to injury?
It cost more to sign up on the day of the event, but I did not spend the last 2-3 months tying myself into knots with all the “what ifs”. There is something to be said for spontaneity. I can’t think what it is to be said, actually, because I’m bone weary.
It was a liquid, but it felt like it should have been a solid.
We ran 10k up and down hills in the woods. It was springy and mossy and I only bled once (for about 15 minutes) but it didn’t hurt. I fell down within the first 10 minutes and cut myself in two places. Apparently it looked dramatic because Mike looked terribly concerned. The cool part about falling on a hill you’re going UP is that it’s really not that far to fall. My worst fear realized, I sallied forth.
We ran through ice-cold water, we clambered over climbing walls, we slithered down fireman poles, we jumped from hay bale to hay bale, we balanced on ropes over water, we shimmied over logs over water, we sank in mud to mid-calf, and we dashed over bridges of shifty, shifty skinny pieces of wood. Because we were “Gladiators” rather than “Warriors” (6k) we were completely alone for a long stretch of springy forest running. It was lovely, soft, and cool (except for the muddy patches). We came to one water stop, and a long while later we came to another. As we were stopped, a woman beside me asked how much further. “Oh,” said the water-pourer woman, “I think you must be about half way.”
I was slightly stunned. I said to Mike “I am really sure that we are well past 5k.” Mike agreed. Just then, coming toward us, we spotted 3 women strolling along. They were wearing medals. “Just over the top!” one said. “Don’t think about it, just jump,” said another.
Jump? I thought. I’d forgotten about the enormous obstacle I’d seen when we first arrived. Here is a picture of Mike and me after we’d arrived at the top:
This is Mike, telling me it will be fun and we will jump together!
Body language is amazing, isn’t it? Here is what he thought would be fun to jump off:
I am about 5 and a half feet tall, so I am calling this about 15 feet high.
You can see me looking back, seeing if I can slip past to climb back down.
And finally, with far too much thought, we steeled ourselves, hollered to our photographers to get ready and this happened:
Somewhere, mid-air, I realized I was alone. It took a few seconds to surface – just long enough to come to a full boil of rage. :D
Luckily enough for Mike, I did not have enough time to exit, climb up and shove him over with all the force of my betrayal. He says his legs froze at the last moment. I say he wasn’t embracing his spontaneity.
Here he is mid-air:
This, friends, is the exact moment in time Mike realized he will never be quite as awesome as his wife. Like, ever.
As you can clearly see, by the back of my head, I was gearing up for mayhem.
Alls well that ends well. After this we swam to the edge, got the hugest medals ever, and (free) Propeller beer made especially for the occasion. The kids stood on the other side of the beer tent.
Then we all got burritos and began to eat and freeze. Halfway through, I thought I would die, so we grabbed our burritos, ran to the van and got changed in the parking lot.
5Downing your hesitations can be a great thing. It can provide for a fantastic morning of fun AND it can provide fodder for mockery for the foreseeable future in one’s marriage! Everybody wins! (but especially me, I actually won this part).
Day 239 scorecard: 1195 down, 640 to go