Ohio Tough Mudder - Course Introduction

Even with Spain’s bloody conquest raging around them, Mayan wise men saw to their ancient duty. As smoke rose from the burning jungles of the Yucatan Peninsula the seers looked to the heavens, tracked star patterns, and sought enlightenment from a source we still do not understand today. Their final prediction would become their most famous.

2012, the year of world's ending.

But there was more to their prophesy, a second half. New information has recently come to light, kept in secret for hundreds of years by a still functioning sect of the Spanish Inquisition. The tale of how a time-traveling Tim Russell recovered the documents, fought off a drunken gang of Templars, and indirectly inspired the creation of the polio vaccine is a story for another day. What’s important to note now is that through painstaking research, translation, and good old fashioned jumping to conclusions, the Atwell Arsenal made a discovery.

The second half of the prophesy spoke of a location tied directly to the Mayan's 2012 prophecy. A barren place, scarred and wounded by the hands of man. One where immense suffering would transpire. But those strong enough to survive the forge of suffering would be like tempered steel, and be destined for forever greatness.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we proudly introduce to you the culmination of the Mayan 2012 prophesy and your Ohio Tough Mudder course location, the South Amherst Quarries.

“I have seen the abyss. Rivers alight in flame mark the way. Just west of a great mistake upon a lake. A lone buckeye tree grows within. “ - excerpt from Dante's Inferno, speaking of South Amherst.

South Amherst, derived from the Greek root words for “below”, “hearse”, and “Am hurt”, literally has come to mean death. A fitting place for the End of Day's origin.

There is no stronger evidence of the forthcoming apocalypse/pole shift/meteor strike than this year's weather in Ohio. As October approached, Cleveland residents wisely stocked the pantry and dusted off coats it seemed they'd only just put away. Another winter on the way. Another 7 months of wind chill, lake effect, and iced over power lines. But then something strange happened. Winter never arrived. And now here we are in March, experiencing 80 degree temperatures with negligible humidity. Clearly this is the calm before the storm.

The yawning quarry pits were formed by centuries of rock excavated for predominately one purpose: the construction of tombstones. Legend tells that for each headstone carved from the quarry's rock, the pits of South Amherst demand a life. And as modern safety excavation methods have improved and the average age of a quarry worker going from 11 in the 1840s to 44 in the 2000s, the quarries have been running a deficit. What better way to even the score than to send thousands of yahoos in Tough Mudder gear through a 12 mile circuit of pain, torture, and dismemberment?

The Atwell Arsenal does not go forth to face certain death unprepared. No no. Not only have they been doing extensive Ohio Tough Mudder training, they've also got a few aces up their sleeves. For the last several years their surveyors have performed painstaking field operations in and around the quarries, charting the topography and features of the site, preparing for the Ohio Tough Mudder. In addition, the Atwell Arsenal is being advised in the art of mental calmness and focus by their unflappable Zen master, Thrill.I.Am Boron. “Here’s what you do. Picture in your mind the task at hand already complete, envision its ending,” Thrill.I.Am advises, “and you shall see it to fruition, even as you repeat the Mantra. It’s done. It’s done.”

To conclude our introduction of the quarries, here with his own alternative take on the Mayan prophesy is renowned scholar and historian, Prof. Daniel Poindexter Jicha III:
“The Mayan Civilization is truly only remembered for one reason: Their end of the world prediction. Of course, this is interpreted from their calendars ending on December 2012.

A bit of background for the less informed. The Mayan civilization began in 2000 B.C. and lasted until about 1700 A.D., cultivating a rich culture and belief system. All born into this society were given a specific task, an assigned series of traits to develop if you will. Men could be warriors, collectors and gatherers, cooks, tribal leaders, and entertainers. The women were mainly viewed as sex objects and a way to procreate, though there were exceptions.

A select few Mayans were given the responsibility of keeping track of time, mainly through charting the sun’s path, and observing the location of the stars and moon in the night sky. In doing this, they were able to put together something similar to what we know today as a calendar. This calendar stops in 2012, a little over 300 years after the Mayan civilization was wiped out through war and disease and cultural blending.

Some viewed this as a prophesy for the end of the world. I prefer to call it what it is…..and what it is is simple. Near the close of their illustrious empire’s reign, a tribe leaders turned to a calendar maker and, through a series of clicking noises and whistles, says ‘Hey calendar maker. I think you’ve got enough damn calendars for now, don’t you think? Pizarro’s coming over those hills, let’s go get crunk on fermented Papaya juice.’ And off they went to their nearest stone-stepped pyramid to get hammered drunk and eat bat guano”

Atwell Arsenal - Special Japan Edition

Apologies for the lack of updates everyone, and specifically in the delay of getting this story up. Most of it was written between dreams on a transcontinental flight, so the big challenge was piecing together a pile of rambling incoherent thoughts. Here goes...

With the Ohio Tough Mudder exactly 1 month away, we offer this special International Edition - Japan Tough Mudder training of the Atwell Arsenal Mudder Blog. We will return to our regularly scheduled nonsense shortly, but for now -

Our hero woke to the sound of ducks squawking from an I-Phone ringtone. 5:45. The snooze button only served to delay those damned ducks another nine minutes, but did nothing to make the torrential downpour outside slow.

In the Land of the Rising Sun, all was doused by rain.

Justin wanted nothing more than to shut that phone off and return to dreams of sake, Geisha, and Buddist driven enlightenment. But on the second to last morning of his adventure to the eastern rim of the world, he knew the time for a run was now or never. Japan Tough Mudder training couldn't be canceled by a little rain.

The hotel doorman's face spoke words that no language barrier could obstruct. His mouth said “Ohayo Goizaimas! Eh... Jogging?” but his baffled expression said “Good morning, sir! You're going running? In this weather? Ya'll Americans must be out your damn mind!”

Justin winced, accepting the question of his own sanity with a simple reply of “Ohayo. Hai. Domo arigato.” Translation, again, with additional words added for facial expressions: “Good morning. Yes. I am bat shit crazy and don't understand why I am doing this either. I will probably catch pneumonia and ruin the last days of my trip, not to mention make that 26 hour travel day back home an absolute hell. Please contact the authorities, I should be institutionalized. Thank you very much.”

With words both spoken and unsaid, Justin stepped from beneath the safety of the pavilion and into the driving rain.

“It doesn't have to be a long run” Justin told himself as he headed southeast from his hotel at the doorstep of Nijo Castle http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nijo_castle “Just two miles or so.” With all lines of communication to his teammates cut off, Justin could only hope that his own lack of Tough Mudder training diligence in the last week hadn't been reflected by the other members of the Atwell Arsenal. With no phone service and no access to the accountability text system, for all he knew they could have relapsed. Steve's traps and lats could be withering from dissuse. Jicha could be back on his 6-donuts a day diet, and Tim could be back to watching Thigh Master infomercials.

(Steve's name in Japanese, along with literal translation)

Japan, or Rappan as it is known to the Czechs, still slept. Even for this hard working culture, cars and commuters were scarce on Kyoto's rain soaked streets. Here and there a brave soul dashed from subway station to building awning. A few brave citizens faced the elements from the back of their bicycles, one hand holding umbrella against the rain and clutching handlebars with the other, dodging puddles. Every step came through gritted teeth as the rain soaked through Justin's hat, shirt, and shoes.

But then something remarkable happened. The Land of the Rising Sun lived up to its name.

At once the rain stopped and the sky lightened before Justin's eyes. The Sanjo Ohashi Bridge over the Kamogawa River, where Justin had thought originally he'd call it off for the day, came into sight. As he warmed from both sun and distance, Justin decided he would do some exploring.

He turned southeast into the historically artistic and famously mysterious Gion. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gion Narrow streets with nary a taxi or pedestrian in sight were both welcoming and suppressive. In a few hours these streets would be filled with shoppers, both tourist and local, but for now Justin had it all to himself. The stone-paved street seemed to scold him for his footsteps disturbing the silence. Red lanterns hung over sealed doorways, promoting a world of food, drink, and crafts, and within the two-storied o-chaya, 'teahouses', the Geisha slumbered.

(A street in Gion)

Justin continued south and east. Past more historic shrines, temples, and buildings, down twisting streets still damp from the overnight rain. Some structures and streets bore grand histories with their histories recorded in history books and travelers guides. Justin passed the Kennin-ji temple (oldest Buddhist temple in Kyoto), the Yasaka Pagoda, and many other sites he was likely too ignorant to recognize. Some of the most beautiful and unique buildings were simply people's homes, with family run shops and restaurants.

One particularly striking feature came while running down a side street no more than 10 feet across. Justin had to duck (true, that may not be saying much) to get under a small footbridge that connected the house on one side of the alleyway to a garden and seating area on the other. A small sign hung in the window, and Justin again pondered how anyone could live full time as illiterate. Unable to read any of the many signs, signals, and notices was probably the most frustrating part of his trip.

The road began to rise. Soon it would be time to turn around, for there was a full day of sights to be seen, food to be tasted, and history to be absorbed with his parents, brother, new sister, and friend. For now, he charged up the hill. Up and up. Justin noted how on flat streets the sidewalks were lined with smooth stones, but here on the hill rougher stones had been placed for better tread. Finally the climb ended at a great staircase and Justin looked up, stunned by the site.

(Steps and outbuildings of Kiyomizu-dera, and brother)

The gateway and pagoda that led to Kiyomizu-dera towered overhead. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kiyomizu-dera The independent Buddhist temple, originally built over 600 years before Columbus had even thought of setting sail, Kiyomizu-dera had been constructed around a waterfall and built without a single nail. It’s foundations resembled he most amazing Lincoln logs you’ve ever seen. The day before he’d visited, along with his family and several hundred tourists who'd packed the streets leading to the temple. Without the throngs of people, and the store fronts selling ice cream, hand fans, and other traditional trinkets all closed up at this early hour, Justin had not even recognized the climb up to one of Kyoto's most visited sites. A pair of happy pilgrims smiled and nodded a greeting as Justin's feet slowed to a stop, his gaze rising to the temple peaks. The sun had only just crested over the trees and hills behind the ancient temple and its vermilion gates and pagodas.

(The Kiyomizu-dera complex)

He would have stayed longer, soaking in the serenity of the moment, but a glance at his watch said he'd barely get back in time to meet the family for breakfast. Justin turned west and headed back toward the hotel. Fueled by nearly a week's worth of green tea, fresh fish, some of the best steak he'd ever eaten, and sweet bean treats, Justin flew through the quickly crowding streets. One more day's worth of adventure awaited before it was time to pack up for home, and he didn't want to be late.

Find more Run in Kyoto Prefecture

(Our hero, fooling around in Gion later that day)