Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Muck ado about muddin'

I have two words for you: Dirty Dash. Seriously the most fun you can have while wading through a freezing mud pit in 50-degree weather.

This race has been on my radar since last year and I signed up for it a number of weeks ago, but I've been worried about it for weeks since my leg is busted and running has been a challenge of late. But the good news is I wouldn't even feel bad about walking the entire thing. And I didn't. I ran almost the entire first part and a good chunk of the second, and my leg only hurt for the last couple of miles, which was positive. (Though it hurt pretty badly for the rest of the day.) Had I run a more normal 10K, I suspect it would have been easier on the IT band; the jumping, climbing, crawling and uneven trails all took their toll.

But they were super awesome at the same time.

Team Muckrakers: Krista, Heidi, Kailee, Matt, MaryLu, Elizabeth







To hear my roommates tell it, I convinced them to run. But the way I remember it, once I'd described the filthy glory that is the Dirty Dash, they were in. They told other people about it. Our home teacher signed up, although he did not go all the way to wearing a pink shirt with the rest of us.


Also, having a fake tattoo reminded me that I really like a little ink. People, please, if I ever come to you with the idea of going permanent, stop me in any way possible. Remind me that I change my mind about stuff ever 3.4 seconds and that whole "permanent" thing really does mean fairly permanent. Remind me that one day I'm (hopefully) going to be pregnant and my ankles will swell up and that cute little crowned soccer ball I decided on as a freshman in college will balloon up and look disgusting. Remind me that I hate pain and that needles hurt. And if nothing else works, lock me up in my bedroom.


The final mud pit. There may have been some mud fights in this pit.
Last year I did the Dirty Dash by myself. It was fun, because there's no way it could not be fun. But there are no mud fights, no cheesy poses, no team belly flops into the mud pit when you're solo. In other words, if you want to run this next year, you call me. Because the Muckrakers will be muckin' it up again next year.



Almost at the finish line. There is a slight chance we got distracted by throwing mud at each other right after this picture was taken.

Notice Krista's shirt is not really at all pink anymore.

It was the slowest 10K I've ever run; I think I finished in an hour and a half or so. My toes were frozen for a good chunk and my hands were frozen from the other chunk. I helped a woman who slipped in a river and then immediately fell and she helped me up. I pulled myself out of a mud pit by holding onto the grass. I got a little pudding in my hair, courtesy of Matt. I almost lost my number three times. Three! My tattoo is more durable than that. I had mud that stuck on me through more than that.


And I am so jazzed for next year. We're totally doing costumes. Any ideas?
 
Muck it.

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