We passed a large banner proclaiming we'd reached the 3 mile mark. Up to this point, the miles had been marked with small 2'x2' placard signs along the side of the trail. But mile 3 is special because Tough Mudder picks on their kid brother the Warrior Dash, proclaiming that if we'd signed up for a Warrior Dash we'd already be done, but you're a Tough Mudder so press on!
Next came Obstacle #6: Killa Gorilla. We scrambled up one side of a huge gravel pile, probably 30 feet in the air, then ran down the other side, wading out into a knee deep pond before turning around and scaling the gravel pile again from the other side. We mudders traveled in a line as the circuit took us into the woods, through more small pools, up and down. Finally we reached the end of the Killa Gorilla circuit, and came to what had been in the back of everyone's minds through the gravel climb.
Obstacle #7: Walk the Plank. A jump from the top of a 15' tall wooden tower into a quarry. Luckily there was plenty the frigid quarry water to break your fall. All told it was around a twenty foot drop, factoring in the water level compared to the bank.
A race official with a bullhorn directed runners when to climb, and another official at the top called out when the last jumpers were clear so that the next wave could take the plunge. Some people froze up at the top, afraid to jump. The race officials gave them three chances before they'd tell them to turn around and climb down. I climbed to the top and leaped when directed, unwilling to look down until my feet were off the platform. If I'd of glanced down at how far away that water was at the top, I may have needed a moment to get the courage.
I hit the water feet first and sank. Deep. I paddled like mad to get back to the surface. The water was cold! Arctic Enema was definitely colder with the chunks of ice, but AE was over in 15 freezing seconds. It was a 30 yard swim to the shore. I immediately rolled onto my back to swim and kicked as hard as I could toward the ramp leading up from the quarry. Erick waved to me from top, waiting his turn to jump. He'd later say “I tried to get your attention before I jumped but you didn't see me.”
“Oh I saw you,” I said, “But I was too busy trying not to drown.”
Bob was waiting at the shore, standing on a ledge above the ramp leading up from the water, whooping encouragement. “Nice work ladies!” Bob had used a paratrooper technique so when he hit the water he barely went under and could immediately begin swimming. He didn't tell us this until at the bar well after the race. For now, we were all in awe of how quickly he'd made it to shore.
We regrouped, looking like a pack of drowned rats, and set off to see what Big Mudder had in store for us next.
Obstacle #8: Dirty Holes. Or Dirty Ballerina. Or Mud Mile. Or Swamp Stomp. Now might be a good time to mention that the map previously posted to the Tough Mudder website was roughly 98% wrong. Wrong obstacle list, wrong start and finish orientation, wrong wrong wrong. The map distributed race day morning was better, but still probably only 50/50. So this next obstacle could have been called anything, but let's go with Dirty Holes because by the time we were done traipsing through a half mile of knee deep mud and dropping into chest deep pits of murky water, clambering up onto semi-dry ground, and repeating the pits part 4 more times, pretty much every orifice was coated in mud. Every. Orifice. Let the mental image sink in. Ok, moving on.
(Dirty Holes, courtesy of Tough Mudder pics)
With a few exceptions, between each obstacle was a half to three-quarter of a mile jog. Signs dotted the course with inspirational quips (“If you don't have the taste of blood in your mouth at the finish line, can you really say you gave it your all?”), signs that were supposed to make you chuckle (“Beware of Velocirapters. Stay on course.”), and some that were apparently supposed to be playing mind games (“Shouldn't you be mowing your lawn?”). I didn't give that last one a second thought, but after the race Erick would report that it did have a kind of psyche out effect on him, making him second guess what he was doing when in fact, yes, he should have been home tending to yard work.
Next up came the consensus vote for most difficult obstacle, Obstacle #9: Trench Warfare. A series of eleven gravel berms mounded to a point, separated by chest-deep moats. You could try to leap the trenches to stay dry and risk racking your ribs/knees/shoulders against the other side, or you could submit and drop into the water each time and have to pull yourself out. Jicha opted not to go airborne and “happily” slid into each trench. The rest of us did our best to stay dry. Erick and Conway each had a particularly nasty spill when their feet just caught the dry ground, their chest and face would bounce off the edge, and then bounce backwards. Think Wipeout with mud and no pithy hosts.
After another run through the woods, next was Obstacle #10: Swamp Stomp. Ever been hiking and had to skirt the edge of a swamp so as not to get your feet and gear wet? We cut across that swamp, but in a roundabout route that led us to deeper portions of swamp, over downed trees, and finally emerged to dry ground out at the edge of Interstate 80. I'd like to think that the drivers, upon seeing dozens of mud coated swamp people emerging from the woods and lurching toward the highway, for a moment thought to themselves “Did I take a wrong turn and end up in Mississippi?”
The dry ground didn't last. First the spotty showers that had been threatening all day turned into a slow, steady soaking. And almost immediately after seeing Interstate 80 we hit Obstacle #11: The Mud Mile.
Once upon a time the Mud Mile was clearly a driveway used for haul trucks and other equipment. Then Big Mudder came to town and cut out the road to be knee to hip deep and filled it with the thickest, slurriest, grayist mud they could find. It had the viscosity of reduced tomato soup, and coated shoes, legs, and any body part that neared its surface like paint. Several people had spills coating themselves in the gray paint. This was the first obstacle where I saw cheaters too... people who opted to walk along the dry edge and out of the obstacle. Sure, that was certainly the more comfortable and smarter way to go, but what did you sign up for again?
(Bob-o, our fearless and tireless leader)
We found dry ground again and got tangled up in Obstacle #12: The Devil's Beard. A cargo net around 100 feet long, staked to the ground at the edge. We soldiered through this one, holding the net over our heads in a snake of people. I think this one is intended to be done from a crawl, but some of the stakes were out of the ground allowing us to stand. Just ahead came the next obstacle.
Obstacle #12 : Boa Constrictor. Diabolical. First you slide down the inside of a twenty foot pipe into a pool of water. You can't stand up because of the barbed wire overhead, so you crawl forward to the pipe leading out. Only that pipe slopes upward and is slick inside with water and mud from the person who went before you.
Six lanes worth of pipes pointed down into that water. Bob led the way, diving in head first. I followed a few second later and could not believe the chaos down in the water pool. The muddy water churned like rapids as everyone scrambled toward the exit pipe. Backups were everywhere as people trying to climb up got stuck. Bob disappeared into our exit pipe. I hurried after him. I grunted and swore as I fought for traction in the tiny space. Too narrow to get on my hands and knees, I went with a side stroke type position; one hand ahead pulling at 6 o'clock, one hand on the ceiling pushing at 12 o'clock, and my legs to either side at about 4 and 8 o'clock to stop any backward sliding. I made it two-thirds up the pipe before Bob was able to reach my arm and tow me the rest of the way out.
As we waiting for our teammates we heard pitiful cries echoing from the pipe. “Man... come get me!” Jicha was trapped!
He'd made some progress in the climb, but then had slid all the way to the bottom. Bob took charge. “Biegs, go get him! I've got your feet!” I plunged back into the pipe headfirst, arms outstretched like Superman... a very cold and droopy mohawked Superman.
“It's ok big fella,” I said as I slid down the pipe, “I'm gonna get you home!” We locked wrists and shouted up to Bob-o. With the help of another mudder, Bob pulled our big asses out of there.
Looking back, if we'd of been smart we'd of had Tim grab onto Jicha's ankles and get up too. But then Tim wouldn't have gotten to showcase his excellent tunnel rat skills. Tim scurried up that pipe like the gopher from Caddyshack, and was out in the daylight only a few seconds behind the Jicha Rescue Party.
The good news was Boa Constrictor rinsed most of the thick grey mud from our legs, feet and hands. The bad news was we were again soaked, and scrawny me as starting to feel the cold. Not nearly as bad as some of the grim faces we'd seen already at medical tents; people wrapped in heating blankets, shivering faster than we thought possible, their eyes glazed over into thousand yard stares off into the distance. I scooped up a foil blanket from where it had been discarded alongside the course just in case and we shuffled on.
A word of warning: with the cold setting into my bones and brain, the second half of the course is a little hazy. I think I got these obstacles in the right order, but could have mixed them up in a few places. Please no torches and pitchforks if I make a mistake.
With half the course behind us, we saw two familiar faces. Abigail and Michelle waved at us from the side of the course. They were bundled in hoods and hats against the elements. We posed for pictures before tackling Obstacle #13: Trench Warfare.
Got a fear of confined spaces, the dark, or being buried alive? Welcome to Trench Warfare! A two foot wide hole in the ground welcomes you to the obstacle, while the sharp gravel lined bottom tries to get you to stay away. For around 30 feet, in the pitch dark, you wind your way through a rabbit warren of tunnels, scraping stomach, elbows, and knees in the process. On the plus side, the tunnel didn't have any water in it, so that made it tolerable. Once out on the other side, Abby handed me back my foil blanket and we were off again.
(Dan Jicha emerges from Trench Warfare, like a little baby being born into the world)
Before long we found Trench Warfare's wet, open-air brother, Obstacle #14: Kiss of Mud. Gravel on the bottom, water on top of that, a little bit of head room to get your breath on, and barbed wire overhead to keep you from doing something foolish like try wading through. Welcome to Kiss of Mud! Another 50 feet of army crawling and we were through. Nice and refreshing!
(The Atwell Arsenal – Steve, Bob, Erick, Tim, Dan, Justin)
Registration was quick and painless thanks to arriving so early. We picked up our packets, pinned on numbers, and got the ceremonial forehead number inscribed from Sharpie wielding volunteers.
(warming up)
(High Steppin, from Tough Mudder event pics)
(The Atwell Arsenal emerging from Arctic Enema)
(Fire Walker – We’re in there somewhere)
(Bale Bonds, from Tough Mudder pics)
The Atwell Arsenal had varying degrees of poor performance, falling into the water underneath the Funky Monkey bars anywhere from halfway across to 2 rungs in. Other than Steve Conway that is. It was on Funky Monkey that Conway began to put some distance on his teammates for the Atwell Arsenal MVP race. Steve “Grand Back” Conway made it all the way to the second-to-last rung... before falling and clotheslining himself against the wooden finishing platform. How he didn't break a rib I'll never know, but Steve popped out of the water looking unfazed. He flashed his cock-eyed, cowboy smirk and we pressed on.
(The Team Attacks Electric Eel)
(Twinkle Toes, pic from Tough Mudder. This was from Sunday’s running)
(Hanging Tough, from Tough Mudder’s pics)