So, to back it up a bit: I ran Spartan Race Citizens Bank Park in Philly on a Saturday… and then the Delaware Mud Run at Frightland the next day.

I ran as part of a team with three women from my CrossFit box (two Laurens and a Heather) and I’m glad I did, but man, getting out of bed in the morning was not a happy time. There was some rending of clothes and gnashing of teeth and wailing of WHAT WAS I THINKING.

My left calf was super tight— I’m guessing it was running all those stairs— and all the aggressive tennis-balling in the world couldn’t get it to loosen up. (Based on how I felt on Monday, I’m going to say it was actually my ankle that was messed up and the tightness in my calf was a result of that stiffness.)

100% of proceeds from the Delaware Mud Run benefit the Leukemia Research Foundation of Delaware, so if you’ve never run I’d say please plan on it for next year! Here’s the lowdown so you can prepare.

Or, if you’re not local: here’s a bunch of pictures of me looking dumb. Enjoy!

Photo? Oh, let me look over here for a sec. These ladies kick my ass in group photo posing.

The run:

There’s a fair amount of running, unlike Spartan where the running is well broken up by the obstacles. Here, the obstacles tended to be grouped together, especially at the end.

The running is all hard packed mud/grass and trails, a good deal of it hilly, and it did not do wonders for my ouchy calf/ankle. It did not help that volunteers told us on at least five different occasions that we were halfway there. There is a special place in hell for people that do that.

The scenery:

Pretty awesome, actually. Cornfields and the backdrop of Frightland (I’m guessing. I’ve never been.) There was a lot of cool stuff to look at, which is always a bonus when you’re a runner that hates running.

The obstacles:

Comparatively easy, mostly climbing over big mounds of dirt or using a rope to get up the side of one. Some crawlthroughs and crawl unders that were rough on the knees, a net wall and a couple 6 foot walls. There were a couple obstacles that were more mentally difficult than physically: walking across a log over water (a log that I would run across if it were on the ground, but I cautiously inched across because I was afraid of falling in), tightroping over water.

The worst one by far in my opinion was a rope swing where you had no choice but to let go and land in the water. My own fear of water aside, people were showboating— which is fine— but they weren’t watching their timing, so they were totally landing right on top of other people. I did the most pansy-ass swing imaginable so I wouldn’t get totally soaked (this was pretty early in the run) and got out of there as fast as I could.

My favorite was a slide into an ice bath, which totally woke my legs up. Right after we cleared it, we watched a dump truck unload tons more ice— it’s entirely possible I would have felt differently going in at that point.

photo credit Lauren’s mom

 photo credit Lauren’s mom

The mud:

At this point I’ve done my fair share of mud runs, and this was one of the muddiest; as in, the whole dang course was muddy. And as Kelly (who ran with a different team) said, it smelled like a whole different kind of mud. We had a soaking rain a couple days before and I guess they wet it some more the day before, but in any case it was stinky. And we were one of the first waves on a relatively cool, overcast morning; I can’t imagine high noon in the hot sun! Not telling you as a deterrent, mind you, just letting you know so you’re mentally prepared.

 photo credit Lauren’s mom

photo credit Lauren’s mom
Clearly, I didn’t want any of that getting in my mouth.

photo credit Lauren’s mom

The cleanup:

Fairly standard mud run “showers”— plenty of hoses. I’ve been to some where they ran out of water or the water pressure on the hoses was near nil but that wasn’t a problem here. The mud came off surprisingly well, but you’re still going to want to bring a change of clothes (there were little popup changing stations for a bit of privacy which was nice), bags for your wet/dirty stuff, and a towel to sit on for the ride home.

There was a potential creeper taking photos of the hoseoff area with a zoom lens that Heather was giving the skunk eye, so it was pretty funny to find Lauren’s mom had also taken some pics of us in the showers 🙂

The verdict:

A great first obstacle course race or even first 5k, and a good choice for breaking out those costumes. Some mental hurdles for those who can’t swim or have a fear of water, but definitely doable.

You can run individually or as part of a team of four. Teams have to finish together to have their time count, so if you run with a team choose people that are at about your level physically or won’t mind waiting for you (or vice versa). I was our team’s weakest link for sure.

Although the day is child-friendly (and spectators are free, there’s just a $5/car parking fee), the race is for ages 14 and up. Delaware Mud Run Jr (1.5 miles for kids ages 6-13) happens in June.

Excellent people watching. Bring money for the after-festival; Heather and I refueled with some pumpkin beer and funnel cakes. Mmmm. Breakfast of champions.

It’s fun and you should sign up next year.

 Seriously, these girls have got group shots down pat, especially #411 Heather there in the middle.
Me, not so much.

But I’m looking at the camera in this one!

The next day:

I didn’t hurt nearly as much as I thought I would after Spartan on Saturday, and a race the next day that was a whole lot more running than I was used to. (And there was none of that funny business during either race with my foot going numb!)

My left ankle was swollen, either from my failed rope climb or too many stairs: it didn’t hurt but I wasn’t getting full range of motion for sure. I was walking like I had a peg leg, but I still went to my RivFit class. No rest for the wicked 🙂

I wouldn’t say I’ve caught the running bug again, but I have a whole lot more running to do over the next 6 weeks. That I signed up for. Voluntarily. Like I’m a runner or something.

WHAT WAS I THINKING.

I’m not an athlete, I just play one on the internet.

Wish me luck.

Spartan Race is like childbirth.

I was so focused on being prepared and the afterglow of accomplishment, that I’d kind of blocked out how much it really sucks while you’re in the moment. And the day after.

Just like childbirth. Just like every CrossFit Riverfront class I walk into.

But that’s good, right? That’s the brain’s way of making sure you want to come back and do it again, in spite of the fear/pain.

Except….

This time I also agreed to join a team with some friends from the Riv for the Delaware Mud Run. Like, I didn’t fight it at all.

That was on a SUNDAY.

As in the day after Spartan Race Philadelphia at Citizen’s Bank Park, 2014.

WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING?

Clearly I wasn’t.

So. This is how it went down.

Preparation training, or lack thereof:

No run training other than the running we do as part of our WODs. More idiocy.

In July I was reliably going to 6 WODs a week. Then I went to the beach for 10 days, then I got completely buried in work for about two weeks. That three-week stretch put me way back— I was shocked really by how much my strength and endurance had been affected.

Kelly and me and Tracy looking totally adorbs 

How it played out:

Last year I missed 4 obstacles, taking the 30 burpee penalty: monkeybars, rope climb, spear throw, and traverse wall (you can read all about the obstacles, my experience last year and general Spartan tips in my Spartan Race Citizens Bank Park 2013 recap).

So this year’s goal was just: do less than 120 burpees.

Jeff made me a practice spear to throw like 2 days before the race; I basically practiced by flashlight the night before. He and the boys got pretty good at spear throwing… I hit the target the first couple of times and got steadily worse after that. I missed, but not by much at all. Result: 30 burpees

The monkeybars were just as ridiculous as I remembered. The bars are way thick in diameter and far apart. I made it to the 2nd bar, starting swinging to the 3rd, came to the conclusion that there was no way I’d make it to the end and dropped to save my arms & shoulders for the rope climb. Result: 30 burpees.

Traverse wall (long horizontal rock climbing type wall): I did a LOT better on this than I did last year, but still slid off before the end. Result: 30 burpees.

I asked for some help with the rope the week before the race— more on that below. Rope climb was higher than I remembered. The landing not as soft as I remembered. The people climbing on either side closer than I remembered. I got maybe halfway up and then couldn’t figure out how to get a grip on the rope with my feet when I was also dealing with the knots tied in it. And then I just got spooked and came back down. Seeing pics afterward, I’m pretty mad at myself about this one. I feel like if I’d had someone barking at me to move my ass, like my coach or my husband, I’d probably have made it. But left alone with the voice in my head saying “30 burpees isn’t such a big deal” and then reopening my rope burn wounds from earlier in the week— I copped out 🙁 Result: 30 burpees.

So, I still got penalized 120 burpees. But other than the rope business— and make no mistake, I will get up that rope and ring that bell next year— I’m pretty happy with this year’s race.

Why? Because progress:

1. At no point did I feel like I was going to die. I didn’t have a moment where I seriously questioned my sanity about paying cash money to torture myself this way. I felt pretty good the whole time, I just couldn’t do what I couldn’t do.
2. I wasn’t completely spent and broken at the end of the race. I looked shockingly happy, in fact, as you can see in the above photo.
3. I ran most of it. And most of the running was stairs and seats.
4. I did better at the rope climb (I couldn’t even get off the ground really last year) and the traverse wall (my grip strength is much improved).
5. I totally got up and did a 5k trail mud & obstacle run with a smile on my face the next day.
6. I met some fun new people, found some people from last year’s run, and our friend Tracy joined our team last minute. He killed it and I think has caught the OCR bug now too.

 Tracy

We found Andrea, who ran with us last year, in our corral at start time 

The gladiators with their oversized battle Q-tips were gone this time around, as well as the “500m row in 2 minutes” obstacle, which I was VERY bummed out about since that was one thing I knew full well I could do. The heavy jump rope made up for it though; this year we had to put a thick rubber band around our ankles before doing our 30 (40?) jumps. Lots of guys were saying it was tough but I aced that one thanks to my time with the Muscle Rope.

The “Herc Hoist” (pulley rope lift) was a big sandbag rather than concrete block, and I struggled with it a bit. It felt heavier and it took me a minute to figure out how to angle the rope and my body to get the most lift.

More about learning rope climb technique:

I did take some initiative here and asked one of my coaches to show me how to do the climb the week before the race. He demonstrated the “fast climb” movement from this video that I love but called it “Captain Morgan, pee-pee dance.” Basically, your knee goes high on the outside of the rope (Captain Morgan) and the rope goes on top of your foot, then you use your other foot to wrap the rope around and clamp down (pee-pee dance) to create a step.

After 10 minutes or so I got the hang of it I suppose, but it was definitely a whole different ballgame at the race. I got hung up on how to navigate past the knots, we don’t have those in the ropes at the box.

And in the end I just got scared. I need more practice before next year.

Quick rope climbing tips:

• It’s a good idea to find out how to get down before you go up. Trust me.
• Start by jumping.
• Wear high socks and take your time coming back down, unless you’re looking to show off your war wounds.
• The Nano 4.0s Reebok sent me have “RopePro protection wrap” and yes, I believe they do a lot to help foot grip and save your shoes.
• I’d advise practicing the coming back down. Even if you don’t have a rope at home or if you have the technique down, go lower yourself down the fireman’s pole off the slide at your local playground to make sure you have those muscles built. My arms KILLED the next day AND the day after that, and I’m pretty sure it was from the lowering motion; using muscles that I don’t normally.

Now let’s take a moment to admire my Nano 4.0s. They so pretty.

All right, that’s it. I loved it, I can’t wait for next year, and I resolve to do better.

Tomorrow I’ll recap the Delaware Mud Run.

Then I’ll let you know what ridiculous, totally-out-of-our-league nonsense Kelly and I are up to next.

You’d think we were athletes or something. We just play them on the internet 🙂

There’s something so thrilling about signing up for an event that last year you just weren’t ready for.

In 2012 I (through my job at FitFluential) worked with the Men’s Health team on a Twitter chat promoting their urban obstacle course race series, the Urbanathlon. I thought it sounded like SO MUCH FUN when I was researching for the chat, but was pretty sure I couldn’t handle the 9.5-11 mile distance separating the awesome obstacles. At that time, they offered a relay option for teams of three, but I didn’t know two other people that would run it with me.

How times have changed! In two years I’ve made lots of friends who’d be willing to trek to NYC and take on the urban playground. And the Urbanathlon now offers a new sprint distance in addition to their classic distance.

I’m thinking you can guess what happens next.

Yep.

As part of a FitFluential campaign (have I mentioned lately that I love my job?) Kelly and I, in our normal “I’m not really an athlete, I just play one on the internet” fashion are headed to Citi Field on October 25th to hurdle barricades and taxicabs, run lots of stadium stairs and climb over buses in the Men’s Health Urbanathlon. They’re providing me with a comped registration so I was left with no excuses 🙂

We’re going to nudge our running friends who don’t really OCR and our CrossFit Riverfront boxmates who don’t really run to join us, and you should too! The obstacles look challenging but easily doable (no monkeybars, WOOT WOOT since I still can’t really do them) and the sprint distance is totally manageable.

So here’s the 411 on the Urbanathlon:

• 3 dates, 3 cities: 10/18 Soldier Field in Chicago, 10/25 Citi Field in NYC, 11/23 AT&T Park in San Francisco
• Classic distance is 10-12 miles, 14 obstacles; sprint is 3-5 miles, 7 obstacles. NYC is 4.5 miles.
• Women are welcome! Participants must be ages 18 and up though.
• Post race festival features DJ sets, food and drink, and tons of swag from sponsors to demo, sample and take home.
• Save 20% off registration with code FIT.

Signing up for lots of scary things this October… I have at least 2 more to tell you about. What are you up to?

This past Sunday I ran the Shamrock n Roll 5K in Newark Delaware. It was sort of a last minute decision— registration closed the Thursday before, I glanced at the weather for Saturday and it was forecasting 60 degrees. Woohoo! Sounds good to me.

Turns out I’m an idiot and can’t read a calendar.

The race was SUNDAY and the high that day 40 degrees. Insert sad trombone. (Plus if it had been Saturday I’d have been perhaps “lucky” enough to see the infamous display of dumpster love that took place. Ahh, UD, keeping it classy.)

Two days before— Friday— I went to my Rivfit class at CrossFit Riverfront. I don’t have a photo of that workout, even though I had my phone right next to me recording my heart rate info. That’s how you know how freaking wiped I was by the time I was finished.

Here’s the heart rate data (pulled from my iPhone app, synced to an Armour 39 device I was sent by Under Armour). This is a pretty typical result for me, which means either I’m working hard or I’m about to have a heart attack.

Anyway, the workout. First we had to do a tabata of pushups: 20 seconds work, 10 seconds rest, 8 times. Then it was 15 minutes worth of progressive rounds of jump squats (squat, then jump up) and slam ball deadlifts (start with ball on ground, squat, stand lifting ball up to standing chest height, then back down to ground and repeat).

If I’d taken a picture of the board it would look something like this:

I think. I might be off with the 15 as the starting number. This is why I usually take a picture of the board.

Jump squats are killer. You look at 20 jump squats and only 15 minutes and think it’s not going to be so bad. Then about 7 minutes in, realizing you’re only halfway through, you want to lie down and be taken home on a stretcher. Add in the deadlifts and I basically did 300+ squats in 15 minutes, most of them weighted.

On Saturday my legs had turned into two tons of petrified wood. They only hurt if you touched my quads. If you touched my quads I involuntarily screamed bloody murder.

On Sunday it wasn’t as bad, stiff mostly, but getting out of bed was work. Putting on clothes was work.

But there are a limited number of days in the year when it’s socially acceptable to wear shamrock socks, dangit, and I wasn’t about to miss out.

Jeff drove me to the starting line and I decided against any mile/time tracking. I was just going to run easy, make the best of it. I thought a time of 35 minutes would be acceptable given my complete and utter lack of training.

The course was pretty flat and wound through a residential area, an out and back. I felt more comfortable going at a pretty quick pace then plodding along and passed a number of people in green shirts and leprechaun costumes. I kept that up for about a mile and a half, then hit a hill. Decided to walk the hill, take it easy for a bit as my ankles were starting to complain, then run the last bit in hard to finish strong.

My quads didn’t feel bad at all. Maybe it was the below freezing temps.

At mile 2 my right foot started to go numb.

At mile 2.5ish my left toes started to go numb too. The right was almost completely numb by this point.

And… that was that. Afraid of landing wrong on unfeeling feet and hurting myself, I walked the rest of the course. 5K in a frustrating as hell 37:49.

Putting that in perspective, the fastest women’s time was a little over 20 minutes; my fastest 5K time ever was 31:28. Given that I walked the last mile, that time isn’t awful; I’m pretty sure I’d have made 35 minutes if I’d kept running at least a little of it.

The point is I DIDN’T and I’m not sure what happened and if it’s fixable for next time. Possible culprits, according to Dr Google:

• Sheer impact. The fact that I haven’t run at all since last September, other than short sprints on a cushioned gym floor, means my feets just aren’t used to stress of pounding pavenment.
• Shoes. I’ve run in these shoes many times before without issue, but I’ve switched to more minimal types since then. Could be the heavier weight, maybe they’re ready to be retired, maybe they were laced too tight and when my feet started swelling circulation was cut off.
• Some sort of nerve problem. This is worst case scenario. Repeated impact is hitting and damaging a nerve in my foot.
• Tightness/contraction of other leg muscles. Um, this would certainly make sense.

By a happy miracle, my friend Penny found me at the finish line as I was massaging feeling back into my poor feets. I walked to the hosting bar with her and her friend and claimed my celebratory Michelob Ultra Light.

Pics, no matter how unflattering, or it didn’t happen

Many days and many hours of foam rolling later, I’m feeling fully recovered from the experience but ohmigod. In retrospect it was such a bad idea gift wrapped in a comedy of errors.

Want to totally jack up your body
AND have a humbling race experience?

Here’s how NOT to run your first 5K of the year:

• Who needs training? Forget Couch to 5K, I’m going from bed to starting line.
• Breakfast? Hydration? Pshaw. I can hydrate when I’m dead.
• Warm up? Nah, I’ll have hubby drop me off at the starting line and then fiddle with my playlist instead of getting some blood flowing in my legs.
• HAH! Oh yeah, my legs. They’re totally trashed. I’m walking like a toy soldier, but sure, I’m totally cool to run. Nothing better than a 5K with no training on wasted legs after inadequate recovery time.
• Start out fast! As fast as you can go! No need to pace yourself. You’ll totally have something left in the tank in spite of your lack of fuel, training and motivation.

Right. So to recap, I am dumb, and I’ll be starting over with Couch to 5K like a good girl.

But I did it, and 37:49 is an easy enough time to improve on, and starting is the hardest part, right? Nowhere to go but up!

Wearing:
CrossFit hoodie (with thumbholes!) sent to me by Reebok,
YMX by Yellowman dragon shorts (doesn’t look like they carry them anymore, sorry, find yer own booty shorts),
Pro Compression Shamrock socks, Wave Riders sent to me by Mizuno 2 years ago. 16s I think? 

Jeff via text: “Why are you the only one wearing booty shorts?” Answer: I hate hate hate being aware of my shorts or the feeling of sweat running down my leg under capris or leggings. It’s got to be Siberia outside for me to run in anything but short shorts.

Tell me about your running so far this year…
or your feelings about short shorts…

or about something that, in retrospect,
was not your smartest hour.

Ever experience tingling/numbness on a run?