This afternoon me and my husband ran the Fort Worth Mud Run.
Ok we ran some of it and we walked ……..and we crawled and climbed and waded the 6.2 miles in our boots and long pants.
It was hard.
There were 15 or so obstacles along the course like over-unders, walls to climb, pits to slither through and nets to go under and lots of running.
There were mini Marines ( like 8 year olds) yelling at you to keep running. To jump in or they’d push you. That their grandmother would get a better time than I would.
Occasionally we would stop to catch our breath or to pour mud out of our boots. I needed my husband behind me to give me a good shove over a wall or out of a pit. And I skipped the top plank of the dreaded “Stairway to Heaven”…which is not at all a stairway and more of a giant really tall ladder. (did I mention I am afraid of heights). But mostly we ran, even with our boots full of mud, and We Finished.
Slowly but surely and together.
Wet and dirty and aching.
Today there are blisters and cramps.
Tomorrow there will be unspeakable aches.
Occasionally on the course I wondered why I was doing this.
Why I kept pushing my self to run. Why I was so determined to make it up the nets or over the wall despite my lack of any upper body strength whatsoever.
But mostly I thought it was fun.
I’m not really that fit or a gym rat or an overall fan of pain. But there is something about crossing a finish line. Pushing yourself beyond your limits. Doing something hard and succeeding. Sloshing through the mud and making it to the other side.
Recently I met an old friend for lunch. He was actually my senior high prom date. He wasn’t just my prom date, but had been my friend for a good part of high school. And our group has mostly stayed in touch through the years. But not him. Even though we live in the same big metroplex, I hadn’t seen him in almost 15 years. At prom, He even won some kind of senior superlative, Mr. BHS or something like that. In other words, he was well-liked, nice, funny and smart. And it helped that he drove a Camero. We didn’t break up or have a falling out. He kind of just disappeared. And not just from me, but from everyone. And I had looked for him. At class reunions. On myspace. And eventually, only about a year ago, he finally showed up on facebook. When he did, I suggested we get together for dinner or something. And he responded with a really awkward email. Explaining that he was gay. Warning me. Trying to let me out of my dinner invitation if I wanted. And I already knew this. Possibly I had ev
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You wouldn't catch me exerting myself that much :-}
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