I used to race. I used to really like racing. But lately? Not so much. My increasing work hours and declining weekly mileage have fused with anxiety over the inevitable end of PRs and boredom with the predictable rhythm of local 5-Ks--cruise a mile, push a mile, hurt a mile (and then some). I was done with it. At least until something pretty darn cool jump-started my interest.
Jess McClain Takes Eighth at NYC Marathon was the antidote to my malaise. The race is part of an international series and involves running 3.1 miles over, under, or through a variety of obstacles. Here, finally, was an event that offered up more than the demoralizing challenge of chasing hardened masters and sprightly high school kids. So last October, I lined up beneath rows of fiery torches with a herd of more than 16,000 participants--many in costume, wearing tunics, body paint, and loincloths. When bursts of flame signaled the starting waves, we took off for the rolling fields and dense woods of southeastern Pennsylvania, on a quest to conquer hay bales, floating logs, and frigid bogs.
The first of the 13 obstacles was four 20-foot-long culverts hyperbolically dubbed Tunnels of Terror. There was an immediate traffic jam as runners funneled through the tubes, but nobody seemed to mind waiting their turn to bruise their knees on the hard plastic. Up next was the Junkyard Jam, a series of half-buried school buses laced with rope to help us haul ourselves up and over. We jogged more or less in single file over man-made drumlins called Hell's Hills, climbed a huge stack of hay bales, crawled up a cargo net, and piled into the woods to hop downed trees and negotiate the Warrior Web--a maze of rope strung between trees that would have made even the most industrious spider jealous.
I normally start feeling twinges of pain at the halfway point of a 5-K. As the lactic acid builds up in my legs, I start praying for the finish line to appear--fast. But on this day, all I felt was excitement and anticipation over what the Dash would throw at us next.
And what it threw was a whole lot of mud. We jumped into a waist-high swamp lined with slick, floating logs we had to climb over and laughed at everyone who took a header into the murky depths. Shortly after, we crossed an equally opaque pond. When I crawled out of the cold water onto the sloppy, peanut-buttery shoreline, I was overcome by something I've never felt in a 5-K--the intense urge to drop to the ground and make a couple of mud angels. So I did.
From there, we scrambled up a slippery, washed-out hillside to the finishing stretch. It was finally time for my first real running effort of the day. I could see the finish line straight ahead--for once, I wasn't coming at it in breathless exhaustion. (In fact, I smiled. That's right, at a race.) But the Dash wasn't done with us yet--before the finish line, there were two giant 30-foot-long, ankle-deep mud pits strung with low ropes we had to crawl under. At the behest of the crowd, I did my best impression of Pete Rose stealing second by diving headfirst into the slop. I emerged coated in brown slime, leaped over a wall of flame, and crossed the line.
Purists might not call warrior-dashing racing, but this recovering competitor loved every mud-soaked minute of it.
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MUDDY BUDDY
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Length: Six to seven miles
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TOUGH MUDDER
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Uber-hard-core obstacle courses aren't timed. On average, 78 percent of entrants bail.
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SPARTAN RACE
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More obstacles per mile than other series, including a 400-meter, uphill mud crawl.
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Results: 2024 NCAA DI Cross-Country Championships Bicycling and Runner's World magazines. He's run nine marathons and come heartbreakingly close to BQing three times. In addition to running and cycling, he's also covered beer for more than a decade and is a certified beer judge.