I was in a new job, a new town, and a new recovery community. My tried-and-true gym, Anytime Fitness, had a local franchise, which offered some comfort in its purple familiarity (despite being a relatively rundown and neglected club). While pumping away one morning before work, I noticed a sign by the office door advertising the opportunity to join an ATF team at an upcoming Tough Mudder. I had heard of mud runs, and they always sounded pretty fun (especially since the concept reminded me of caving). I’m a hopelessly impulsive person, so I signed up on the spot. I then went home to research what I was about to do with little knowledge of what it entailed.

The Tough Mudder countdown begins…

As the day of the Mudder neared, I watched the sign-up sheet at the gym with interest, but nobody else scrolled their name underneath mine. I had already paid the hefty fee for the event and was deep into my ad hoc training regime, so I was worried about the apparent lack of a so-called team. I was afraid of going to this sucker alone, but I have always loved new adventures. So… when the big weekend arrived, I threw my gear together and drove to the Mudder with determination.

Everything about Tough Mudder is arranged to make the participant get jazzed up quickly and remain jazzed. Mudder Village (the name of the pre-race area where they section off gear-drop, vendors, food carts, etc.) cranks its music up to 11 all day long. Several obstacles from the course are within sight of the start line, giving a show to the crowds waiting for their go-time. A huge Tough Mudder photo backdrop sits in the middle of the Village, corralling finishers for a muddy post-race celebratory pic.

It worked…

When I began shuffling into the starting gate like one of Temple Grandin’s cows, my heart raced well before my legs were told to go. A man with a megaphone at the front stood on a box high above everyone, next to a pole with a USA flag flapping in the wind. This man told the crowd to take a knee, and obedient as can be, we all plopped down right into the mud…making the first blemish on our athletic outfits. He asked us if anyone in the group was running their first Tough Mudder, and I raised my hand with maybe ten or so others.

The crowd burst into cheers, almost as excited as we were to be there. That’s when the man with the megaphone (Kinda like the man with the yellow hat, but not quite) said a phrase I will never forget, “When was the last time you did something for the first time?” We all shouted again, and I was mesmerized by this simple and awe-inspiring question. It was destined to become my life mantra in recovery…as I always have and continue to truly love trying new things. The National Anthem bellowed out of a radio nearby, and we bowed our heads for our country. Before I knew it, we were on our feet, the man with the megaphone was counting down, and away we went!!

Slow and steady wins the race

I started slow, thinking I’d pace myself. Within a half mile, I discovered I had made a classic novice mistake…I wore something I never wore during training. My pants, which I chose for the day because they are lighter material and would help in the August heat, were a tad big on me and fell off my ass with every step. I had to run while holding onto my waistband like the General should closely follow me, singing ‘Pants on the Ground.’ Thankfully, once I made it through my first obstacle and got soaked from head to toe, my pants submissively stuck to my skin and bothered me no more.

The obstacles were so incredibly fun! I felt like some combination of caver, military recruit, and 6-year-old kid with unabashed joy in a playground. I crawled under barbed wire, slipped and slid up impossibly steep slopes, and climbed over vertical walls with strangers grabbing various parts of my body to help fling me over the top. This teamwork, by the way, is by far the best part of a Tough Mudder. Nobody is ever left behind. Whether running the course in a group of friends or entirely alone (like I have run every single Mudder to this day), someone will stay back to ensure the next person gets past that obstacle. This means someone is always available to keep you on track – just like in recovery!

Obstacles

As I approached another obstacle, I slowed and wondered how I would pull this one off. It was an army carry, or Hero Carry as Mudder calls it, with a partner switch halfway through the obstacle distance. I looked around, feeling helpless, as I had nobody with whom to partner. There were a few others nearby dutifully pairing up. A dude with a stocky build looked at me and asked if I’d like to partner. My age-old shame of being a larger woman and fear of him dropping me face down in the dirt created an initial reaction of horror. “Ummm…I’m pretty heavy,” I needlessly explained to the brute. He responded with a pretty ho-hum answer I no longer remember and bent over for me to climb aboard. As soon as I was lifted, he rushed forward with little to no effort.

Approaching the halfway point, he hollered up at me that he’d just take us all the way to the end. “The hell you will!” I told him to stop and let me carry him…I had tried every obstacle to this point, and I wasn’t gonna break my streak now. I’m sure it’s a tad emasculating to ride piggyback on a chick, but hey, kudos to the guy for letting me do the deed. I carried him the entire length required, and we gave each other a congratulatory nod before running off on the trail again.

The Finish Line rose into my sightline much earlier than expected.

I didn’t feel drained and didn’t curse about how filthy I was or even really feel uncomfortable. I was having the time of my life and wished there were another six miles of muddy madness. Instead, I pulled up to the final obstacle…the famed Electroshock Therapy. Wires ominously dangled from a wooden frame over a pit of brown water. Much of the Mudder obstacles have a cognitive aspect to them…the concept is often scarier than reality.

It’s typical to arrive at an obstacle and encounter a crowd of 10-20 people considering the obstacle with apprehension. My inherent impulsivity, however, is a benefit of the course, and I’ve found my approach to be more akin to a bull charge. I threw myself into the electrified grid of wires, stumbling through the trenches of mud created by previous runners, getting zapped here and there (which feels like shuffling along the carpet and getting static shock) …and finally halfway fell forward over the Finish Line.

I. WAS. EXHILARATED.

The thrill of completing a new experience and knowing I had attempted everything on that course was extraordinary. Now understanding the significance of that photo backdrop glimpsed earlier, I rushed to the spot and coerced some poor schmuck to take my picture while I gleefully brandished a victory smile. Uh oh…I knew this feeling…I was definitely…hooked. But I love getting hooked on something naturally thrilling rather than substance induced.

It wasn’t long after this introduction to Mudders that I began planning my training for the Toughest Mudder and then the World’s Toughest Mudder. Completing all three levels in one year would award me the ‘Holy Grail.’ But that, my fine friends, is a story for another day.

Want to learn more about Tough Mudder?

Check out their website here: Tough Mudder USA | Mud Run & Obstacle Race

Want to explore Recovery Beyond, a Pacific Northwest recovery community organization which facilitates peers supporting peers in healthy and adventurous ways? Our website is here (and we are planning a Tough Mudder Team for 2023 Recovery Month!): Home – Recovery Beyond (recoverybp.org)

PAY IT FORWARD: We at The Sober Curator are big proponents of giving. Whether time, talent, or money, we all have unique gifts to share with others. Besides wanting to be a good human, there are many reasons to give. Multiple studies on the topic reveal that people who give time and money are happier, live longer, and feel more connected. According to Pablo Picasso, the meaning of life is to find your gift. But the purpose of life is to give it away.

Pay it Forward will help you do just this. Our resource directory provides reputable, vetted, recovery-related organizations seeking donations and volunteers to help make our communities better. The Sober Curator is always looking for new opportunities to give. If you have a favorite nonprofit organization related to recovery & mental health that you think we should feature, please share it with us at thesobercurator@gmail.com.

A Disco Ball is Hundreds of Pieces of Broken Glass, Put Together to Make a Magical Ball of Light. You are NOT Broken, Friend. You are a DISCO BALL!

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