The previous day, a good friend and I thought a hike was in order and despite better judgement, Mt. Elbert was selected as a good idea. Our ascent was humbled by a young lady passing us with her geriatric hounds as if we were standing still. Well, the truth be known, many times we were actually standing still as we questioned our decision to summit Elbert "for fun." High above timberline, oxygen must have been thin as I was abruptly confronted how many times I stated, "Before you know it, we'll be at the top." Cresting the summit at 14,433' provided splendid views that was poisoned by a irritating group from France who beckoned the game of King of the Hill as I wanted to shove several down the mountain.
Anyhow, Saturday at sunset we went over Independence Pass and the descent into Aspen became dark. Really dark. There was no moon and the road had fresh asphalt which added to the blackness. Fortunately, we got behind a big RV from Washington who proudly displayed their family name, The Mitchell's, on a placard above the rear bumper. For the uninformed, Independence Pass has tight areas were the two lane road, without any warning, chokes down to a single lane for short distances. We followed Walt (a name given to Mr. Mitchell who we believed was driving) and allowed his rig to bulldoze through the tight spots. Walt hugged inside curves and his misfortune was our entertainment as he raked the passenger side of his motor home on a rock wall. He didn't blink, but kept barreling down the pass nearly clipping delineator posts and trying hard to sideswipe more rock walls. As the road tamed, we shot past Walt and glanced at him. Thin wispy hair, glasses slipping down his nose in total concentration as hunched shoulders hovered above the bus's steering wheel. We took bets on how many times he had barked at his wife that "it" was all her fault.
Friends had spare rooms in a fancy Snowmass hotel and the next morning we put on our disposable gear as we prepared for the 11.6 mile muddy obstacle race. We headed out to check in and scribble our bib numbers on our foreheads with permanent marker and walked to the start area. But, before standing at the start line, a warm up area was cordoned off where Coach took over. He wore a baseball cap, mirrored sunglasses, a porn moustache, tight t-shirt, equally tight gray Bike shorts from the 70's, Tough Mudder headbands high on his left thigh and Tough Mudder Shoes. The only thing missing was an over sized cucumber crammed inside his tight shorts to add to the laugh factor. One thing about Coach, he has no shame. With much gusto, he eagerly leads warm up exercises where hip rotations are punctuated by pumping arms. His air humping routine made me laugh from a combination of being embarrassed for him and the fact that he simply doesn't care. My abdominals were warmed up from laughter as we were released to the start line.
Sean Corvelle. The guy does a fantastic job being a motivational speaker and catches me off-guard every year when talking about Wounded Warriors and patriotism to the point I have to wipe tears away. His comment about the Arctic Enema made everyone chuckle and we finally were released to the 5th annual Tough Mudder course in Colorado.
Quads complained all night from Mt Elbert and were noisy from the get go. The course wiggled through the village and slightly onto the mountain where we passed extravagant homes. The first obstacle was the Berlin Walls that are tall wooden walls where reaching up and crawling over was not a big deal. A little ways down the trail was the Warrior Carry which required a piggyback ride on another Mudder for maybe 50 feet and then positions are switched for another 50ish feet. Trotting further down the course, high-pitched squeals could be heard (from men) as we closed in on the Arctic Enema.
Previous years one simply jumped into a container, similar to a roll off dumpster, that was filled with ice water. Midway through the water, a board forced submersion to get to the other side where Mudders scampered out with goosebumps. This year was different. We climbed up onto a platform and sat with legs dangling down on a ramp. Paralleling above the ramp was chain link fencing which forced contestants to lay down while zipping down the slide and into the icy waters. The midway barrier in the container was a "crawl over" instead of a "go under" and after I crawled out the other end, I watched my friend take his turn. It was the only time during the entire course where I had hands on my knees with such an outburst of laughter that I had shortness of breath from laughing so hard. So, what was so funny? His face upon breaching the water after the initial submersion.
Although this picture came from the internet from an old Mudder event, it serves the purpose for comparison. But, my buddy did not have the contorted palsy appearance of limbs like the dude in the back, but the facial expression is a close match--kind of like slow motion videos of facial expressions during tasings. I'm chuckling out loud as I type this.
We bantered up the slope and despite extreme stubbornness, we succumbed to Mt Elbert's victimization. My recovering IT bands lifted their middle finger at me and my left one caught fire and forced a peg-legged skip for the remaining 9 miles of the race as my buddy's legs were also tore up.
The rope net of the Devil's Beard was next. It's pinned to the ground but with a group of other Mudders, we got under it with arched backs and marched forward with no difficulty. Hobbling down the trail later had us encounter Skidmarked, an obstacle I simply don't remember...but, next was my favorite obstacle of the day.
King of the Swingers. It was a debut obstacle where Mudders climb up on a platform and must jump out over a water pit to grab onto a t-handle. This metal handle then swings over the water pit and upon reaching the top of the arc on the other side, there's suspended bells that need to ring. Some could reach out while others released to fly out to ring their bell-- then a free fall ensued into the chilly waters waiting below. I rang my bell and could have stayed at the obstacle all day doing it over and over and over. It was fun, but we continued on.
We approached the next obstacle, Shawshanked, and like every other obstacle, Mudders stood idly with hands on their hips staring at it. I zig-zagged through them and dropped onto my belly to crawl under the suspended barbed wire. Large black plastic culverts angled up as I began to slither through mine. A rope was attached to the top of the tube where I spun and was on my back as I used the rope to pull through the slick pipe. At the end of the pipe, I looked and realized the exit dumped us into more water, but the pipe was about 4-5 feet from the muddy pool. I popped out and fell backwards like a scuba diver rolling off a boat and hit the water with a splash. Climbing out, we proceeded onward with our crippled gait.
Next, we encountered the Birth Canal. It was another debut obstacle that forced another belly crawl. But, this time a suspended membrane filled with water pressed down on Mudders forcing us into the mud where we had to muscle through the water trapped above. It was kind of lame, but I guess they named it well.
Balls to the Wall was a rope climb up and over a wall....no biggy and then to the most ridiculous obstacle, Ladder to Hell. Imagine an over sized ladder built with tall poles and 2"X12" rungs. It does not go high and Big Mudder needs to retire this obstacle.
Cry Baby was another debut obstacle that forced Mudders to crawl into a closed in area filled with what I will label as "bad gassy shit". The instant it hit my lungs, I coughed deep, as in from my toenails, to get the crap out of my body. Once expelled, another big breath repeated the process, over and over and over. We crawled in water, over a big dirt hump, through more water and all the while, my wretched coughing tried hard to bust a rib. Finally, we exited out of the gas trap where, upon my first breath, I was fine. Whatever was in there repulsed my body. I listened to others huffing through the obstacle with nary a sniffle...guess I'm a puss.
Fucky Monkey. Oops, I mean Funky Monkey was next (spell check caught my original typo that cracked a smile across my face for some reason....) This was grade-school monkey bars that went up and down and then to a single pipe that, hand over hand, takes you to the other side. To the other side of what you may ask? Another water pit staged below for everyone to enjoy should they fall. At the World's years ago, they greased the bars with Crisco or whatever slick shit that made me swim, a lot.
While approaching the next obstacle, the Beached Whale, a small mud pit was being by-passed by other Mudders. Well, if it's there, it's meant to be done. So, we dropped into the knee deep mud and waded across. Our noses crinkled where my friend questioned, out loud, "Is this mud or high mountain ox shit?' I laughed and found the greasy, smelly mud very sewage-like. Anyhow, we crawled out of the ox ass and jumped up onto the Beached Whale. It was an over-inflated air bladder, like what stunt people fall onto in Hollywood, and we left greasy skid marks over the obstacle for others to wipe clean. Oh well...
Next was the Pitfall. Once again, it was a large mud/water pit. As you wade across in knee deep muddy water, you may suddenly drop into a deep hidden hole. I crouched and had my arms outstretched in preparation for the disappearing act. But, I got lucky and somehow avoided any foxholes.
The Liberator was next, but in case I haven't mentioned it for awhile, yes, we were a physical mess from hips to ankles. Our pace was, well, slow. It didn't matter. We were having fun, (I think) and were slowly working our way to the finish line. The Liberator was new and used wooded pegs as handles where holes in the angled wall were to be used by the pegs to climb the wall. It wasn't a big deal and after climbing down the other side, we continued gimping on down the trail.
Everest was next and is a signature obstacle that is basically running up a half-pipe wall that is used in the winter for skiers and snowboarders. My IT band made my first attempt rather pathetic. Wait, it wasn't "rather pathetic"....it was "pure pathetic"....much like my attempt to fold fitted sheets that have no corners! But my second attempt got me high enough where I could frantically grab fellow Mudders who hiked my sorry ass up and over.
Nearing the finish line, we encountered Hold Your Wood. A log was lifted and carried by my friend and I. A short Mudder jumped between us and I did not feel any change of weight from the log digging into my shoulder--"freeloader" came to mind. A wall with a hole in it forced us to shove the log through and then another wall had us shove the log over the top. We tossed it back onto the log pile and headed down towards the finish line with our embarrassingly crippled pace.
The course had a fork in the road where Legionaries (people who have completed a previous Mudder) had a special obstacle. Others followed the course to the dreaded ElectroShock Therapy obstacle. I went to the Legionnaire obstacle and it was Ninja Warrior like. I dropped down off a platform to hit a min-trampoline and shot out over water to grab a t-handle. Well, that was the plan anyways. My wussy left leg buckled as I hit the mini-tramp and as I stretched out for the handle, I missed and did a nice belly-smacker in the water. (Judges may have scored it a 9.8 or so.) The official said I could to do it again, so I did. I put more weight on my right leg as I hit the trampoline and grabbed the handle that acted like a zip-line to the other side of the water.
I ran down the hill and noticed the course allowed me to gain access to the ElectroShock Therapy obstacle. I peered at the wooden rack that suspended 1 or 2 a million electrified wires that dangled down into the faces and bodies of Mudders running under the structure. I could hear the electric snap and watched some Mudders face-plant while others hardly flinched. Having been struck by supercharged lightning (in my opinion) the first year, twice, I snuck around the obstacle--fully prepared to hand over my man card to anyone who asked for it...
Devan was already at the finish line waiting for me. Thanks my friend, it was a good time.
As for you, Big Mudder, this was again a disappointment in terms of the course. Year after year, your course slips in quality. Years one and two at Beaver Creek rocked! You utilized the ski mountain to its fullest and the courses were wonderfully a true bitch! Year three at Beaver Creek was alright, but paled in comparison to years one and two. Year four in Colorado, you switched to Snowmass which adds hours of travel time and more money for gas. Our reward for the additional travel? A very lame course. I questioned returning this year as prices continue to rise and travel time sucks, but in the back of my mind, I secretly wish that "next year" is the year where Tough Mudder returns to its roots and actually makes a Tough course. So, thanks to that little wishful voice in the back of my head, I returned...and was even more disappointed that last year! I was stunned this year at mile 5 as us Mudders were still in the frickin' Village on an asphalt bike path when you had the entire mountain at your disposal! Shame, shame.
Yes, I was injured but I still would have relished in your getting back to making the course a heavy-handed, naughty dominatrix that spanks everyone instead of dropping the course difficulty down for couch potatoes to enjoy. For the most part, I'm not focusing my complaints on the obstacles but am griping on the actual course.
I hope a lot of Mudders completed your post event survey with similar comments and that you listen and act on the comments. Once again, I already signed up for next year because that little voice in the back of my head told me that next year might be the year you return to a difficult course. If not, I have given you many years of allegiance by not missing one Colorado Mudder and completing a World's Mudder in New Jersey, but, this year I dipped my toe in the Spartan series by participating in the Spartan Beast in Breckenridge.
And, guess what? The Beast slapped me in the face, kicked me in the gut, pulled my hair and spanked me, really hard...and I liked it.
It's up to you.
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