She had laid down the gauntlet and I was forced to run through it. And while Vicky probably didn't intend this to be a challenge, I took it as one. Realizing how badly I would suffer during the race, I began hitting the treadmill during the winter months. When registration opened on-line I begrudgingly signed up and paid my entrance fee to the Warrior Dash. There was no way I was going to be shown up by a girl, and as chauvinistic as that sounds, I meant it.
As luck would have it, I changed jobs with my company and the amount of time I could spend training dwindled considerably, until eventually the number of hours spent working accounted for almost all of my time spent awake. With only a couple of weeks before the cross-country 5k obstacle course, I began plotting how I would bow out. I could fake an injury or talk about how I had to work over the weekend. Perhaps Father's Day would supersede the race, because after all, when I signed up I didn't realize the race would fall on such an important day.
I got bombarded with texts and e-mails asking how my training was going and what time my race was by those that were signed up to go. I avoided all communication, still unsure of how I was going to back out, and feeling rather slimy for my lack of dedication. On Saturday morning I changed my mind and told Cathy I was going to run. I made sure my life insurance policy was up to date and our health insurance would cover any injury I might sustain.
Cassidy (my youngest daughter) and I hopped on Scooter early Sunday morning and rode south toward the little town of Channahon, Illinois. Once we exited the interstate, traffic immediately picked up as the race goers were steadily clamoring into the remote parking area. We rode uphill in a corn field and finally found a half-way decent parking spot; a spot I hoped was firm enough to hold the bike up since it had rained considerably the night before.
We tentatively walked toward the sea of tents housing event workers. I found the tent where I had to sign my waiver then walked to the tent to get my running number, which I found out is called a "bib" in running circles. I asked for directions to the starting line, bought Cassidy a hot dog and something to drink and directed her to the finish line to wait for me. In the back of my mind I was hoping this wouldn't be the last time I got to see Peanut.
Back at the start line I did a few stretches. The summer sun was already beating down at 10:30 AM, as the forecast called for a high somewhere in the neighborhood of ninety degrees. A group of us took off down the trampled path, the course having been tamped down by the previous day's runners as well as the early risers on Sunday. At the half mile point my heart rate was up and a small creek loomed straight ahead. Our small pack of runners trudged through the cool water, our feet now sloshing inside our shoes. At the one mile mark, the first obstacle loomed--the belly crawl under barbed wire through a mud pit.
Assuming the mud was slick, I dove under the barbed wire and into the pit. Two things happened at that point: 1.) I quickly realized the mud was very sticky rather than slick which prevented me from sliding, and 2.) landing the way I did on my front somehow resulted in my right testicle getting slammed between my body and Mother Earth. I immediately rolled over on my back seizing my groin and groaning in pain. No one seemed to notice or care that I was on the verge of vomiting in the mud pit, so I caught my breath, turned over on my side and belly crawled out, all the while my testicle screaming "stop!"
Upon exiting the sticky mud barbed wire thingee, I doubled over to catch my breath. I'm sure most assumed I was already winded from the run; on the contrary, I was trying to get my testicle out of my throat. The agony continued and got a little worse during my jog. Obviously, I wasn't wearing a jock strap and the jostling about caused more discomfort. Eventually, though, the pain subsided a little and I was able to refocus on the course just in time for the next obstacle--Mortimer's Crossing--a rope bridge with a single rope at its base. We hovered only a few feet above ground, but our feet were muddy and traction was at a premium. Fortunately, I didn't have a mishap, got across the bridge and jogged on.
The first water station was just beyond Mortimer's Crossing and I gulped happily then poured water on my sweat soaked and muddy head. I think my testicle had swelled to approximately the size of a baseball and the pain would come and go between steps. Onward I pressed, jogging a few more minutes before coming to the Vicious Valley--interconnected walls of plywood, each wall angled at approximately thirty-five degrees to form a "V." Inside the walls were 2 x 4's one nailed to each wall to provide some footing as you duck walked across a few feet off the ground. I traversed this obstacle easily and jumped to the ground almost three feet below. My testicle screamed at me, and I, in turn, screamed back! That hurt, but pain, as the Marines say, is fear leaving the body. Currently, I had a lot of fear being left in this meadow.
The sun continued to bake my pasty white skin and the salty sweat from my forehead dripped relentlessly into my eyes. I now had to walk a small parcel in order to slow my heartbeat, which was pulsing somewhere in the neighborhood of 60,000 beats per minute. My testicle really hurt.
A small rock wall called "Vertical Limit" was up next. Another easy obstacle for me, although I noticed several folks struggling because of the mud and water on the hand grips and foot holds. I shimmied up the wall to find a pole on the other side, which stood to be slid down by participants with no pain in their loins. I reached out and gingerly wrapped a leg around the post not caring if the heat baked the inside of my knee and thigh, just so long as the pole didn't come in contact with my friends down below. I navigated this one successfully, smiled, then grimaced and took off again.
I managed through several other obstacles, up and down muddy slopes (some weren't so fortunate and had to be carted off in ambulances because of broken and twisted ankles and dehydration), finally coming to a small muddy creek. The muddy creek quickly became a rocky creek, which turned into an overly muddy slope with ropes dangling down to help runners get to the top. I watched a runner, who had around his neck a digital camera, fall on his chest, subsequently breaking said camera and knocking the wind out of him. I chuckled because I'm mean like that, and seeing someone else get hurt took my mind off my aching testicle, so I laughed harder, an evil chuckle rivaled only by Vincent Price on Michael Jackson's Thriller album.
Eventually, after slipping numerous times on the way to the top, I reached the summit and saw the Cargo Climb. This is the wall of meshed ropes used in the military to train America's finest. I caught my breath, overcome with exhaustion, my testicle feeling as though it would fall off my body, and scurried up and over the ropes, leaped across two small pits of fire, then jumped feet first into the last obstacle--the "Muddy Mayhem," a pit filled with water and mud about three feet deep. I coasted and swam through the muck, the pit approximately fifty yards long, until I was able to gain my footing on an extremely muddy and slick field just before the finish line. I watched one guy fall and slide right in front of me and as I hovered over him, I broke into my umpire impression and screamed and signaled, "Safe!" He looked as though he wanted to punch me, but knew better because it would have turned into a guy-on-guy mud rassling event, and who wants to see that? Besides, the pain in my testicle was giving me so much grief, I probably would have gone all Mike Tyson on him and simply bitten his ear right off.
I crossed the finish line where Cassidy was waiting on me, a huge smile on her face. She laughed at the site of her daddy covered with mud then snapped a picture of me before I found the hose to rinse myself off. Will I do this again? Oh yeah! Next year my hope is to leave injury free--my testicle has also put in that request.
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